Torn
by Con Dar Lioness
Summary: A year until her Knighthood, Alanna is banished for seven years. This is her journey. Please Review. Warnings: Violence, Some Sexual reference,
1. Disclaimer

I do not own the Song of the Lioness. I am not Tamora Pierce. If I were I would have had Kel die. I do not wake up halfway across the world. Nor do I have kids. If I did own the Song of the Lioness or any other series I would have money. I do not own the Song of the Lioness or anything connected with it. I am merely a "FAN" thus the reason "FAN FICTION".

To confirm: I am not Tamora Pierce, I merely find her work the Essence of Awesomeness.


	2. Chapter One

**All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.**

rince Jonathan of Conté stared out the window into the night. He watched as a cloaked figure cantered out of the palace and into the rain without looking back.

"You did the right thing." Jonathan flinched at the sound of his father's voice; he hadn't heard the man enter the room. "I can only imagine what would have happened had _she_ made it to knighthood," King Roald went on, coming to stand behind his son. "Tortall would have been the laughing stock of the world. Even the gods would mock us."

Jonathan sighed and turned to his father.

"I don't want to talk about it," he said, glancing at the door that connected his chambers to that of his squire's.

Roald followed his eyes and frowned. "You did the right thing. I am glad you informed me immediately after you found out."

"She was my friend and I –" Jonathan swallowed and averted his eyes in shame.

"Your friend?" interrupted King Roald, scowling. "If she was your friend, she wouldn't have lied to you for all these years."

"But she saved my life!" Jonathan exclaimed, returning his gaze to his father. "Many times!"

"Yes, I know." Roald drew himself up. "That was the only reason she did not see the noose."

Jonathan glared at his father but refused to reply.

"We will not speak of this- this abomination again. Are we clear? As far as the rest of Tortall is concerned, Squire Alan was banished for being accused of treason." Roald spoke in sharp, clear tones.

Jonathan gave a curt nod and bowed. "Your Majesty." His response followed King Roald out the room.

Gary and Raoul walked in and stared at Jonathan.

"Is it true?" Gary asked his long time friend.

Jon clenched his jaw, fighting to hold back tears. "Yes," he whispered hoarsely.

Raoul sighed and flopped into a chair; Gary followed suit.

"And you turned him- her in?" demanded Raoul.

Feeling ashamed at the look of betrayal Raoul shot him, Jonathan nodded again. "I had to. It was my duty." Even to his own ears, his excuse sounded weak.

"So Alan, is really Alanna?"

Jon nodded and took a seat. "She switched places with her twin brother Thom, who went to The City of the Gods to train as a mage."

"Well, it certainly explains a few things. Like how she never went swimming or how she never seemed to grow," Gary murmured, trailing off weakly at the end when he realized his friend was really gone.

Apparently unable to speak, Prince Jonathan nodded again.

Gary and Raoul exchanged a glance before staning.

"It's not forever, Jon," Gary said.

"We can see her in seven years." Raoul gripped Jonathan's shoulder. That is when her banishment is terminated."

"What if she dies?" Jonathan cried, swallowing hard. "It will all be my fault!"

"Do not talk like that!" Raoul shook Jonathan hard. "She has been trained well!"

Gary took a step forward, adding, "She is one of the best. She has Moonlight, Faithful and Lightening. She will be okay."

Jonathan sighed and nodded, his blue eyes troubled. "I know. I just..."

He looked away in a clear dismissal. Gary and Raoul left after assuring Jon that Squire Alan or Alanna would be okay.

As Jonathan lay on his bed, unable to sleep, he thought of Alanna, his squire, his best friend, and...his lover.

Sir Myles of Olau took another skull from his wine bottle, draining it dry. Rubbing his face, he put the empty bottle down and placed his hands over his belly. Sighing, he muttered into his beard and stared into the fire. He, like the rest of the palace, was thinking about a certain redhead squire to the crown prince. Alan.

Myles sighed again and looked into his empty wine glass, annoyed to find the contents nil. He had known since Alan—Alanna- had cured Jonathan from the Sweating Sickness and what his spies had reported about the family at Trebond. Snuffing the fire, Myles begged the gods to protect Alanna and guide her well.


	3. Chapter Two

So, um. I hope to have 2 chapters every month. If not, I give you permission to email me repeatedly until I produce another chapter, unless I have limited access to a computer or am out of the country. Best Regards CDL. Enjoy!

Betrayal. It was an interesting concept. One Alanna, formally of Trebond, was not unfamiliar with, and yet, she was unable to deny the pain that accompanied being the victim of it. Choking back a sob, she urged Moonlight onwards, out of the palace and into the thundering storm. Riding down the Palace Road and crossing onto Market Way, she hugged her cloak tighter to her face lest anyone see who she was, not that anyone would be out on a night like this.

Pushing Moonlight faster, she rode on through the night along the Great Road East, heading for Tusaine. Whenever she came upon a lone traveller, Alanna would slow down and gently ease her mare past them and continue on.

It was well past noon when she finally asked Moonlight to halt. The mare gratefully slowed, her sides heaving and her flanks lathered with sweat. Sliding down from the saddle, a weary Alanna clung to Moonlight's mane in order to keep herself steady.

Wiping her hair out of her face, Alanna examined the road ahead. She had reached the Tortallan-Tusaine border. All through the night she had rode her faithful mare hard and with little rest. Often she had dismounted and ran through the piercing rain, dragging her horse behind her, trying to save some of Moonlight's energy. Faithful had clung to the special cup on her saddle without saying a word and for that she was thankful.

Her legs dragging, Alanna slowly stumbled closer to the border, and, as she approached, the guards turned her way and placed hands on their weapons. Keeping her hood covering her face, Alanna lugged the reluctant Moonlight along behind her.

Reaching the guards, Alanna tiredly reached into her shirt, unaware of the tightening of hands on weapons, and pulled out a scroll with the royal seal marked on it. Handing it to the nearest guard, she slumped against Moonlight while the sentries shifted around her. Upon seeing the royal seal that graced the parchment, the guards turned and yelled an order to get the commander.

Alanna stood unmoving as her vision wavered and she swayed on her feet. The commander, a balding man with blue eyes, walked up to her and glanced at the scroll in his hand. He had received orders directly from King Roald about what was to be done with the adolescent before him. Scratching his head, he asked if the teenager knew what was in the parchment. Alanna stared at him blankly, sure he was speaking, but she was unable to hear the words. "I have to leave," she finally slurred.

The commander sighed; the youngster was dead on his feet. He began yelling orders for the horse to be seen to, and the cat and the boy who blinked at him, his purple eyes droopy, to be cared for. At his command, the men-at-arms jumped into action. One leaned down to take Moonlight's reins and had to pry them from Alanna's stiff grasp.

A soldier, his polished armour gleaming in the sunlight, leaned down and swiftly picked Alanna up, wincing at how cold she was. Carrying her into the barracks, he took her to a room and laid her on the bed. "Your saddlebags will be bought up shortly," he said as he exited the room after shooting her a puzzled glance.

Alanna mumbled something in reply, closed her eyes, and fell into a fitful sleep.

The commander stared at his desk and then looked at the parchment again. Sighing, he poured himself a glass of the finest wine from a bottle next to the stacks of paperwork on his desk. Taking a swig, he re-read the orders signed by the king's own hand.

_Commander Brophy, Great Road East Barracks, Tusaine-Tortallan border:_

_You are herby ordered to escort the rider who bears this scroll across the border without detection. Should said rider attempt to re-enter the Tortallan borders within the next few weeks, you are ordered to attack and kill said rider if you cannot chase aforementioned rider off. Once you have completed this task, send confirmation._

_Signed,_

_King Roald of Tortall._

Brophy sighed and took another swig from his glass, draining it. Why would King Roald order the banishment of one of the most famed squires in the Eastern lands? For if he was not mistaken, the youth on the horse was none other than Alan of Trebond, squire to the prince!

Brophy sighed; maybe he could glean some information from the lad in the morning. Taking a gulp from the wine bottle, Commander Brophy pondered long into the night as to why Squire Alan was to be exiled.

Rising with the dawn, as he always did, Brophy readied himself for the new day and the many unanswered questions he had formed the night before. Moving into the mess hall, he saw a small-cloaked figure sitting alone in the corner, enduring the distrustful glances thrown his way.

Sitting down in front of Alan of Trebond, he waited for the lad to speak. When the boy spoke, his voice was hoarse as though he had been crying.

"So, I suppose they told you about me?" he asked staring at his uneaten food.

"Told me about what?" Commander Brophy inquired, intrigued.

Alan looked quickly up at him, his eyes red. Yes, the lad had been crying. "Nothing."

Brophy cleared his throat and met the glances his men shot towards Alan. Picking up his eating utensils, he began to cram food into his mouth.

"I am to be banished for seven years," Alan said suddenly, moving his food around his plate. "And if and when I return, I am to be treated as a dignitary form another realm."

Brophy paused, slowly swallowing his mouthful. Moistening his lips, he dared to press, "What did you do?"

Alan's head jerked up "Do?" He asked raising his voice. "Do? All I did was follow my dream. All I did was please my teachers and save Prince Jonathan countless times!"

Brophy noticed his men turning toward Alan, hands flying to hilts as the hatred and anger in Alan's voice reached the men as Alan spat out his knightmaster's name.

"And for what?" Alan was screaming now, his voice filled with rage and loathing. "He would be dead if I hadn't saved him! And this is how they repay me?" The lad's fists clenched on the tabletop and the troops began to move forward. "Well, Mithros curse them! Curse the lot of them!" At his final outburst, there were angry mutterings around the men and the jostling of bodies as they moved closer still.

"Easy lad." Commander Brophy leaned over and forced the standing squire to sit once more. "Yelling gets you nothing except a loss of air."

"Sorry," Alan mumbled, lowering his eyes.

Brophy shrugged and then told him not to worry when he saw Alan wasn't looking. Sighing, he went on, "We are to sneak you across the border today, and then you are on your own."

The hooded head nodded and remained bowed. "I know," the lad whispered, sounding alone and scared.

Brophy nodded and then got to his feet. "Come on, lad. Let's get you ready."

Alan nodded and got to his feet placing his black cat on his shoulder and followed him out.

As the horse approached the barracks from across the border, the men-at-arms readied their weapons and sent for the commander. Looking through the telescope, Commander Brophy sighed and signalled "friend" to his men.

It had been a week since he had snuck Squire Alan, his unnatural cat, and his horse across the border. Now that same horse cantered wearily towards the Tortallan troops, rider-less and blood stained. A man grabbed Moonlight's reins and the horse stood still, its head lowered, exhausted. Running forward toward the mare, Brophy saw Squire Alan's cat, clinging petrified to the saddle; it too was covered in blood.

As he got closer, he saw the saddle had rips in it and around the girth there were amputated fingers between the strap and the horse. The saddlebags remained on the horse and the weapons' sheaths were all empty. Brophy turned to a man and ordered him to see to the mare and another to the cat before he spun and walked into his quarters. Poor lad, he thought, realizing that Alan of Trebond was probably dead.

King Roald looked across at his son and his friends. Gary gripped Raoul's shoulder as he glared at the Jonathan and the King in turn, tears welling in his eyes. King Roald continued reading.

"Horse returned rider-less and blood stained...Weapons were missing and only cat returned… No trace...couldn't find the body..."

Jonathan felt sick. It was all his fault that Alanna was dead. He felt like crying, but he would not-could not- shed a tear in front of his father and friends. Swallowing, he gazed out the window as a part of him withered and died. Turning abruptly, he stalked out of the room, guilt welling in him as he briefly met Raoul and Gary's eyes.

Walking into the stable, he walked aimlessly along the stalls until he came to the one with a mare the color of the sands to the south and the snow in winter, Moonlight. Entering the stall, he buried his face in her mane and cried, silent sobs racking his body. He had unintentionally killed the only woman he had ever fallen in love with.

In the middle of a slavers' camp, a woman silently cried, tears falling down her cheeks. Gulping, she wiped them away, wincing as her chains rattled and clinked with her movement.

Curling up to protect her wounded side, she dripped further tears into the earth. Her copper hair cropped short to her ears and her amethyst eyes full of fire, she silently swore revenge and an eternal hatred of the person she believed responsible for her pain. Her former knight master, friend, and lover, Prince Jonathan of Conté.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

"Get up!" A harsh voice growled at first light.

"Get up, you mangy dogs!" Another rough voice yelled.

There was a thud and then a grunt as a heavy boot kicked someone. Alanna groaned as she got to her feet, her arms automatically trying to cradle her wounded side, where she had been viciously kicked the day of her capture. Holding a chained hand to her throbbing head, she watched as the guards went around kicking those who didn't rise or that looked them in the eye.

Cursing, she breathed into her hands and stomped her feet in an attempt to return feeling to them. Looking to her left, she saw a small huddled bundle. Leaning over, she shook the girl awake.

"Anya," she whispered softly, afraid the slavers would the girl still didn't awaken she hissed more loudly, "Anya!"

"Wha- What?" Anya mumbled groggily.

"Wake up!" Alanna glanced up at the guards and then swiftly picked Anya, setting the girl on her feet, her muscles straining with the effort and her teeth clenched to hold back a scream. Anya yawned and blinked sleepily before quickly lowering her eyes as a slaver came over.

His brown hair was unwashed and long, covering his eyes in greasy locks. Stubble hung from his face, disguising his features, but a long pale scar marked his chin.

Alanna stared straight ahead as he came over and positioned herself protectively in front of the girl, a fact that was not unnoticed by the slaver. A grim smile revealed rows of crooked teeth. Looming over her he spoke Common with a harsh southern slang.

"You think you can protect the girl?" He pointed a finger at the cowering girl cringing behind Alanna.

"Look here, boys!" he boomed, spittle flying from his mouth. "Lass yonder is a'thinking she can protect girl!" He gestured to Alanna.

One of the slavers, who had an arm in a dirty sling made of rags, looked up from where he was stirring the fire and growled a warning, "Watyha thata one, Jarth. She bites. I got ta hurt ta prove it." He glanced down at his arm and then back at Alanna, menace in his eyes.

Alanna felt a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth and swiftly hid her expression behind a blank mask. The man at the fire had got what he deserved; he had taken a blind sweep at Anya, who had been holding trays of food for the men. Alanna, who had been sitting in front of a pot-containing soup, had taken the ladle in her hand and used it to whack the man around the face. He leapt to his feet, after staring despondently at her in disbelief, and launched himself at her in fury. Alanna had waited, rigid and vigilant, as he barrelled toward her and then she struck, hard. Using her balance, she had thrown him over her shoulder and broken his arm as he sailed through the air. Next, she had wrapped her iron chains around his neck and had flung herself to the ground, pulling him with her. He had lost consciousness by the time the kicks and punches had eventually forced her to release him.

Though she had not escaped without injury, she wouldn't hesitate to do the same thing again. Each breath she took sent fire searing through her lungs and she suspected the kicks had broken or fractured some ribs. Still, the respect she had earned, as prey who fought back, was somewhat worth it.

"Bites, eh?" Jarth enquired, turning to Alanna. A harsh smile fleetingly danced across his face. "Do you know whata we do to dogs that refuse to submit?" he asked Alanna, his breath blowing wisps of her hair. The men close enough to hear started to laugh ruthlessly, and, not for the first time, Alanna began to feel afraid. Leaning down, Jarth whispered into her hair, his breath fetid with ale. "We sell them to Tahakén."

There was an ominous silence as the slaves that had travelled with the slavers for many years looked up in horror and the men laughed again.

"Indeed?" Alanna asked, determined to hide her shaking. "What's that?"

"What's Tahakén? 'What's Tahakén?' she asks," the man by the fire mocked. "Tahakén, lass, is your worst nightmare." He snorted and resumed prodding the fire.

Alanna swallowed, but declared bravely, hoping she would not be proven wrong, "I have been in some pretty bad places. There is not much that can scare me."

Jarth started to laugh and it wasn't a pleasant sound. "Oh, I truly doubt you have ever gone somewhere as awe inspiring, terrifying, or tragic as Tahakén." Alanna frowned and glared at him. "Pray that you never venture within one-hundred leagues of Tahakén."

Alanna finally lowered her gaze, telling herself she couldn't stand the stench of the man. Turning, Jarth walked away, bellowing orders for the camp to move. As his orders were repeated, the camp became a flurry of activity, and Alanna was dragged over to a wagon that held cooking utensils and other various everyday items.

The slaver kept a wary eye on her as he locked her chains onto a loop behind the wagon and pulled it tight. Alanna winced as her ribs protested, and gasped against the pain. She heard a grunt and looked to her right to find Anya thrown on the mist-sodden dirt. Leaning over, in a way to protect her ribs, Alanna offered Anya a dirty, callused hand and helped Anya to her feet.

Anya murmured thanks as the carts assembled into a line, and other slaves were tied to Alanna and Anya. With the guards astride dirty ponies, clutching cheap spears and shields, the wagons began to move.

Alanna and Anya trudged on through the dirt behind the swaying procession. As they walked, they talked to each other in hushed whispers. Alanna was able to answer some of Anya's questions today, unlike the days previous when she had been unable to utter a coherent word.

Alanna, keeping her identity as a noble and the fact that she had been a squire secret, told Anya she had grown up into a large family with only brothers for company during the day. This wasn't entirely untruthful, because Alanna considered many of the squires at the Palace to be her siblings. She told Anya she had started working at the palace as a servant in the laundry. When Anya asked, with a child's innocence, what the balls were like, Alanna paused and thought about her answer.

"The balls were amazing," she finally answered, cautiously picking her words. "The women were stunning, and the men were handsome. They wore the finest fabrics and consumed the finest of liquor in the land." Alanna paused and moistened her lips. Noticing Anya's encouraging looks, she continued,"The squires dressed in golden tunics with full sleeve scarlet hose. Polished leather were their boots." Alanna blinked furiously, trying to hold her tears.

One of the women behind her in the chain spoke up. "And the prince? I heard he has a face that looks to be carved by the gods."

Alanna stiffened, and her jaw clenched. "Prince Jonathan," she spat in a voice scarcely concealing her rage, "uses his piercing sapphire eyes and midnight hair to entice women to his bed." As she called Jonathans image to her mind she felt a sharp stab of longing before she remembered what he had done to her, and fury replaced it. "Once he has bedded them, he tosses them aside and moves onto the next."

Alanna glared at the muddy ruts created by the wagon wheels. Feeling she had made her statement too personal she hastened to add, "That's what the gossip is anyway."

The women behind her sighed.

"He sounds dreamy," the original speaker swooned.

Alanna didn't say anything, and as the women went on to discuss the men they had seen or bedded, silently agreed with her. Yes, Prince Jonathan, heir to the throne of Tortall, was indeed dreamy.

All day the chain of wagons and prisoners slowly wound its way further into Tusaine. Reaching a great square, the wagons made for the field next to it. As the wagons drove into the field, Alanna could hear muffled screams and sobs beneath the hum of men talking and laughing amongst themselves.

The slaver Jarth, who seemed to have taken an interest in Alanna, came over with the keys to their chains. Starting from the rear he undid the chains, demanding a kiss in exchange.

Reaching Anya, he released her and then stared at Alanna. Extending a large, grubby finger, he caressed her cheek and leaned in. His breath was hot and stale in her face. Dangling the key teasingly, he whispered. "Give me a kiss and I'll release you."

Alanna glared at him and twitched her head. "No. I'd as soon kiss a pig," she snarled.

A sudden harsh look crossed Jarth's face before he quickly concealed it behind a grim laugh. "Oh, yes. You will be a fun one to break."

Backhanding her around the face, he undid her chains and then lifting her up by the manacles around her wrist, he looped her arms over a small hook at the top of the wagon.

Alanna hung groaning as her shoulders protested against her weight, her feet being unable to touch the ground. Jarth leaned in and hissed, "I'll leave you to sort out your attitude all night. Maybe then you will be mellow and timid like women should be." He turned and walked away, picking up Anya's chain as he went.

"Oh." He turned around. "Hope you sell tomorrow, because if not, you and I will become acquainted in my tent." His eyes filled with lust, he walked away, dragging the petrified Anya behind him.

Alanna tensed at the implied threat and then swiftly relaxed as the pressure put on her arms began to hurt. Jarth's words came back to haunt her as she hung from the wagon as the light turned to night, and the stars began to dazzle the sky. _Hope you sell tomorrow._Alanna felt sick. She knew where she was- what this place was. It was a slave market, and tomorrow she would be put up for sale.

Alanna swung from her shackles, moaning silently against the pain, slowly fading in and out of sleep. Gazing up at the stars, tears streaking down her face over the hand mark on her cheek, she prayed her brother would be okay. She prayed all her friends and Faithful would live without her, all except her ex-lover, Jonathan.

In another land, across the border leagues away, another man stared up at the stars and prayed that Alanna was alive and that she would return. Tears streaming down his face, he returned to his chambers, his dreams full of the woman he loved and let go.

.

So Yeah. You are all going to have to wait for the next chap, isn't even written yet, thought I'd give you this as a treat.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Blinking groggily into the harsh sunlight, Alanna uttered a pitiful moan. Her shoulders had long ago become numb and her wrists were covered with blood. Jarth's smirking face peered down at her as he unhooked her manacles from the top of the wagon and she fell unceremoniously onto the green grass. Alanna moaned into the grass, her eyes longing for respite and silently called him every foul name she knew.

"How you feeling this morning, sweetie?" he chuckled as he dragged her to her feet.

Alanna snarled but said nothing as he began to drag her across the field, her feet refusing to support her weight.

When Jarth halted to talk to some other men, each as dirty and unshaven as him, Alanna would massage her throbbing limbs as blood began to seep into them, making her bite back a yelp. As she rubbed her arms, Alanna gazed around her curiously, noting the wet and draggled look of the slaves coming from the direction she was being dragged in. A line of lush, healthy trees obscured the destination from view, but judging by the cries and splashes she assumed she was being taken to a river or a stream.

A sharp jolt on her chains caused her to stumble and she barely managed to keep herself upright, her ribs screaming in protest. Hissing, she quickened her pace, refusing to scream in front of Jarth. Her booted feet sank into the soft grains of sand as she was lead like a horse down to water, to the stream.

Slaves of all ages were being dragged out of the water that was swiftly turning muddy because of the banks being churned up. Anya, who was already bare in the water and looked for all the world like a drowned rat, waved at her when she saw her and made her way towards the banks.

The stream was a rich sapphire blue, and Alanna felt a pang of longing she quickly erased when she saw it, for Jonathan's eyes. There was a cliff that banked the stream and cast shadows onto the water's surface. As she glanced around, she realized there would be no escape.

There was a clink as her chains were removed and then a harsh thrust to her back sent her sprawling into the water. She let loose a cry as the impact jarred her ribs, and she was swallowed by water. Rising to the surface, she groaned and held her arms around her side, gasping as fire raced down her side.

Jarth threw her a bar of rough, squished soap and ordered, "Get yourself cleaned up! You cannot look like you have been dragged through mud before you go up on stand." He folded his arms, still holding onto her chains and waited.

Alanna straightened and glared at him, still cradling her wounded side. Anya tugged on her arm and shook her head when Alanna looked down. Sighing angrily, she began to froth the soap, and then lathered her exposed skin. Jarth stiffened and growled,"Wash your clothes."

Alanna returned the stare and then began to froth her white tunic and tan breeches. Jarth snarled at her defiance.

"Take your clothes off and wash them and yourself!" he spat with a face like thunder.

Alanna stopped scrubbing and snarled, "Fine. Turn around."

A gleam came into his brown eyes and a grim smile crossed his face. "If you don't do it, I will come in and do it myself," he hissed, his eyes daring her to argue.

Anya tugged on her arm again, pleading with her to follow orders. Alanna's amethyst eyes met Jarth's brown eyes in a death stare. Alanna broke off first, not liking what she saw in his eyes. Looking around, she saw female slaves being forced into the water and undressed. They were made to clean themselves with the men leering at them and an occasional groping.

Clenching her teeth, she reached for her tunic and slid it over her head, her ribs flaming as she reached up. Her view obscured by the fabric, she didn't notice Jarth lean in and stare at her as she exposed her trim and taunt stomach. As she pulled the sleeves down, she noticed Jarth shift and wondered what it was about; his eyes appeared to stay locked on hers the entire time.

Fighting her pride, she reached for her breast band. This time, she watched him the entire time. Blushing deep red, she watched as his eyes traced the contours of her body, snagging on her hips and finally her breasts. An appreciative look crossed his face and Alanna's blush intensified.

Standing deeper into the water, she removed her breeches, making sure no man was close enough to touch her. Standing naked, but for the token from the Goddess, in the water she began to scrub herself all over, noting with embarrassment the other looks she was getting. She began to feel even more uncomfortable, if that were possible, for they were watching her with lust, a look she had never received.

Gulping, she hurriedly washed her clothes and redressed, stumbling out of the water and pulling Anya with her. A slave woman helped her re-dress and then look her hand as her chains were re-attached. Jarth smiled down at Alanna as he tightened her own. "So we don't loose you before we sell you," he said with a grin, which remained filled with lust.

His eyes once again roamed her body as he turned and led her away from the stream, Alanna hurriedly dodging the grasping hands for her body. Alanna walked a step behind him and to the side as he led her towards a caravan with fabric hanging from twine. A brown top came over the roof of the wagon, and Alanna wondered what it was. Getting closer, he called out to the woman who was sitting sewing next to the horse.

"I have job for you, Kat," he said, halting and dragging Alanna forward beside him.

The woman Kat looked Alanna over and raised an eyebrow. "Lad look ta be outfitted," she rasped, never halting in her sewing.

Jarth shook his head. "Not a lad," he said, looking Alanna over. "A lass."

The woman glanced up at Jarth and then looked to Alanna, grey strands of hair being blowing in whips across her face.

"Very well," she said, slowly rising out of the old wooden chair. "Follow me." She turned and led the way into the brown tent, pitched behind the wagon. She paused at the flap and looked at Jarth. "You don't need ta be a coming in," she informed him.

Jarth tightened his grip on Alanna's manacles. "I will be coming in to make sure you don't give me something she doesn't need," he said firmly, dragging Alanna into the tent, past Kat.

Once inside the tent, Alanna looked around her, curious. The tent had rolls of plain to extravagant fabric in rolls on a long bench and there were pins stuck in small pillows near the fabric. A length of fabric had nicks in it at even intervals and Alanna guessed it was for measurement.

Kat moved her to the center of the room and started pulling off her clothes; she paused when she saw the gift from the goddess and the gold chain it hung on. Reaching out, she seemed to want to touch it and then stopped when she remembered her audience.

Alanna halted her as she reached for her belt and removed her breeches herself so she was standing in loincloth and breast band in the middle of the tent, still soaking wet. She clenched her fists and stared blankly ahead, trying to ignore the look that came into Jarth's eyes and failing.

Kat picked through a few fabric and offered the cheapest for observation. At Jarth's nod, she brought it over to Alanna and began making measurements. Looking around her, she seemed to have lost something. Remembrance flashing on her face she waddled out of the tent, calling back, " Just gonna get some scissors."

As soon as she was out of hearing distance, Jarth took long strides to come and stand before Alanna. He stopped in front of her and let his gaze roam her body before rising to meet her eyes. Staring into them, he reached out and touched the black stone. Light flared from it, and he blinked in confusion.

Looking down and realizing his hand was in contact with her skin, he slowly drew a meaty finger down her collarbone before pausing. He glanced up into Alanna's eyes and then resumed his caress. His finger slowly went down between her breasts and over her body to rest on her bellybutton. Licking his lips, he leaned in until his body was pressed against hers, Alanna's pride refraining her from shying away. Tensing, she coiled ready to knee him between the legs, regardless of the consequences when Kat walked in.

"I charge for extra unneeded time," she snapped as she began cutting fabric along the marks.

Jarth looked over at her and then back at Alanna. Placing both hands on her waist he whispered into her ear, his breath casting strands of flaming hair across her face, "You're lucky I may already have a buyer for you. Otherwise, I would take you for a romp in the hay barn, and teach you what it is like to be with a real man."

"I have already been with a real man," snarled Alanna. "You could not compare."

Jarth laughed softly and tightened his hold. "That sounds like the words of a virgin," he mocked.

Alanna leaned back and glared at him. "I'm not a virgin," she snapped.

Kat glanced up from her piece of fabric and smiled in amusement.

"Ouch, love, no need to bite my head off. Besides, you look no more than twelve summers," Jarth said, loosening his hold and stepping back as Kat walked over and draped the fabric across Alanna's shoulders.

Folding the cloth around Alanna's body, she pinned it in place, slapping Alanna around the face when she squirmed as pins pit into her skin. Holding a hand to her red face, Alanna glared at her but said nothing, nor did she move a muscle until Kat was done.

A few silver coins were handed over and swiftly pocketed by Kat who thanked Jarth for business and led them out. Alanna, feeling uncomfortable in the scratchy fabric, followed.

Jarth glanced at the sun and then looked over to where his slavers were gathering the slaves and smiled. "It's time lass," he told Alanna, setting off toward his men, Alanna following docilely behind.

Anya tried to smile when she saw Alanna, but all she managed was a slightly pained twitch of her lips. She was to be sold before Alanna and was scared.

Alanna lined up behind her and allowed her manacles to be fastened onto a chain that ran the length of the slaves. Each pair of wrists were locked onto it. Feeling resigned to her fate, for there would be no escape, only in death, she trudged along behind her fellow slaves as they were lead across the field, down the cobblestone road, and into the town square.

The town square, if you could really call it that, was set with a road that branched off around a rectangle and then met on the other side. The rectangle held tress, mere twig and ghostly examples, nothing in comparison to the trees around the palace. Alanna felt a pang as she thought of the palace- home.

In the square's center, there was an uprising of stone and a path wound its way beneath it to where a slave now stood, head hanging, awaiting selling. The square was packed with people, all yelling. Children dashed beneath legs, and dogs barked. Hawkers called out their wares, and over all the noise there was the bidding of the slaves as each one was led beneath the auctioneer.

Shaking her head she tried to shorten herself and hunched over, not meeting any potential buyers' eyes as they came forward and ran their gazes down the line. Some offered prices, which were rejected as Jarth was saving for the stand. A stocky man walked down the line with Jarth standing relaxed at his side, pointing out factors of various slaves.

When he came to Anya he turned to the man, who he seemed familiar with and said, "Another lass for the bedchamber or a kitchen hand."

Alanna stiffened and hissed under her breath, unconsciously gathering her bearing and anger so that when the man came to stand in front of her he was taken aback. This slave had hair of flames and eyes that were pools of lavender. Her eyes smouldered in rage and she held herself staunch and tall, adding length to her short frame. Jarth glanced at the man and said, "This is the one I told you about, Lordship."

The man stared at Alanna and licked his lips. He glanced over his shoulder and beckoned. A small girl dressed in a short skirt, which came up to her knee,s quickly hurried over, keeping an unusual distance between herself and the lord.

"Go and get my lady, he ordered. Turning back to Jarth as the girl ran away, hair waving behind her, he asked, "How much?"

Jarth shrugged and looked Alanna up and down. "I was thinking ten gold nobles to start off."

The Lord paled. "Are you trying to cheat me?" he demanded, aghast.

Jarth shook his head, strands of brown hair whipping across his face. "A strong, young one like this could fetch me that as a slave to Tahakén easily enough."

The Lord glared at Jarth and then turned to his lady as she approached, slave girls holding an umbrella over her head.

Alanna turned and followed Anya, as their slave line was lead towards the stand, straining to hear what was being said. She stood blankly, squeezing Anya's hand as the girl shook and cried. Families were crying as they were ripped away from each other and thrown into wagons and driven away.

As Anya was unchained and dragged up onto the stand, she began to scream and kick her captors. As one of them raised and arm to hit her, Alanna stepped forward, taking advantage of the loosened chain and struck first. The man fell to his knees in pain, his hands clutching his groin. A sharp snap hissed through the air, and Alanna cried out as the whip lashed her back. The whip once again whistled through the air, and Alanna quickly spun, ready to grasp it in her fist but her manacles halted her movement. The whip cracked across her face, and Alanna screamed in pain and held her hand to her face, blood freely running from the weeping wound. After screaming a few curses in the vague direction of the whip master, Alanna allowed herself to be led after Anya.

Standing up on the stand, smoldering, she saw Anya being led off by a hulking guard, screaming and fighting. A sharp slap silenced and subdued her.

Alanna turned her attention to the auctioned as her assets were pointed out. "This wild, unusual creature is from the far reaches of Tortall, a rare and exquisite buy. Look at those rare eyes! Purple as lavender fields and her hair of fire!" he called out, his voice ringing across the square.

The crowd all looked up at Alanna in awe at her looks. The auctioneer smiled and licked his lips as some began shouting out offers for her.

"I will be starting you off cheap for four golden crowns!" he announced, sensing a sale as hands immediately rose. "Eight golden crowns!" There was a slight murmur at such an expensive price for a single slave and the auctioneer screamed, "An exceptional looking virgin! Look at the spirit in her eyes!Imagine bedding such an exquisite creature! Look at those curves."

Alanna hissed and shifted her weight, glaring at the bidders who looked at her with lust in their eyes. The clothes Jarth had bought hugged the contours of her body and showed her shape, curvy beneath the fabric.

Alanna sighed and fixed her gaze on a single leaf that clung desperately to the spindly twigs that give it life. Her attention wandered and she caught herself wondering what Jonathan, her Jonathan was doing.

_Stop that!_ She reprimanded herself, acknowledging the pain that came with the thought of her former lover, friend, Prince and Knight master.

"…And the female slave goes to my lord for fourteen gold crowns!" The auctioneer announced and smiled happily to himself. The wealthy lord had just broken the slavers' record; never had a single slave been worth so much.

Alanna snarled as a guard made a cautious snatch for her chains. Glaring at him, she walked down the ramp and waited. The guard gestured in a direction, and Alanna despondently followed his motion. Jarth was over talking to the same lord he had been talking to before. They shook hands, and a pouch of coins was exchanged. Seeing her, Jarth looked up and tracked her approach, the lord following his gaze.

Alanna had never been more conscious of anyone in her entire life. This was the prig that had sold her and the bastard that had bought her! Coming to stand in front of Jarth, she simmered up at him. He leaned down to whisper in her ear, "A pity, lass. I should have kept you for myself- maybe broken you in a bit and then sold you on." He ran a finger down her face, the side that wasn't seeping blood.

"This one might be an animal in bed," he said, turning to the lord.

The lord, conscious of his wife's approach, shook his head. "She is for the kitchens," he stammered swiftly.

Jarth nodded and turned back to Alanna. "See you, lass," he said as she was led away from the lord and lady into a dirty, black horse drawn wagon. The horses snorted and tossed their manes, eager to be off.

Alanna clambered into the wagon and saw grim, tearstained faces staring at her with wide eyes. As she sat down and the door shut she could feel their eyes on her.

"Alanna?" A small voice called out of the shadows and a pair of frightened eyes peered back at her.

"Anya?" Alanna asked, pleased at the familiar face.

Anya squeezed her way through the bodies as a whip lashed out, and the wagon began to roll. She held a grubby, small hand up to Alanna's recently stopped bleeding face and said thank you. Alanna took the girl's hand and squeezed it as the wagon jerked and rolled into the unknown.

Authors Note: That may have been hurried at the end, wanted to get it done for ya . The last segment of chapter three could have been George or Jon ;). I am so bad.

**Anyway, please give me your feedback. I know it's been a while.**

**Oh and by the way, if anyone thinks of names for the chapters, Ill give you a spoiler about what is to come. Whenever you choose to have it! So, PM me with your ideas for each chap and I'll judge the best name!**

**Children-of-the-blood: **Thanks! Im glad you think so.

**Spazzysassyangel: **Thanks. Any comments on my writing? What to improve? Things you loved/didn't love?

**Escape my Reality: **Yes, he turned her in in the first place. He told his father ( but that is all you are getting out of me, for now ). It will all be explained later, Alanna will have a flash back.


	6. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

The wagon rolled to a halt with a jerk, sending its occupants flying forward. Alanna cried out as her wounded side slammed onto the wooden floorboards, and Anya landed on top of her, followed by nearly half the wagons residents.

The wooden flooring muffled her curses and the frightened sobs that had begun once the latch to their clammy prison had opened. The doors to the side opened, rolling on well used, well oiled hinges. Since they had left the slave market, the rear door had been locked and unopened, their captors or owners or masters as they called themselves had taken to using the side doors. It provided easier access, more room to look at the slaves and sometimes; they rolled the doors open, just a little, and let the fresh air blow through.

Under guard, of course, they were always under guard. When they were allowed to relieve themselves, when they ate, even when they slept, there were always more than four pairs of eyes tracking their every movement. Once Alanna had seen a brief moment for escape, but the moment passed before she could snatch it and run. She also didn't want to leave Anya, the girl who now introduced Alanna as her big sister.

Her eyes watering as she stared into the blinding light, Alanna rose painfully to her feet. The slaves all pushed back into the shadows of the wagon, the shadows that were feared in darkness more safe than the unknown outside. A voice in the light growled a warning and banged on the wagon with an armoured fist.

Swallowing, Alanna wobbled forward, her joints squealing in protest, being the first time she had moved in near twenty-four hours. Coming to the blinding light ,she held the door and waited for her eyes to adjust.

Anya, who now followed her around like a faithful puppy whimpered and clung to Alanna. Holding her wounded and now infected side, Alanna quickly sat down, fighting back a moan of pain.

On her bum, she shuffled forward until she was at the edge of the wagon and slid down the wood to ground. She landed with a grunt and having done it plenty of times, expertly balanced herself while protecting her broken ribs, she walked over to where the guard was directing. Anya jumped down and followed her over the cobblestones. Behind them, there were squeals and cries as the guards gave up waiting and hauled the frightened slaves out of their prison.

Looking around her, Alanna saw they were in a courtyard, not un-similar to the ones at the Palace, though minute in size. Men-at-arms manned the walls with long crossbows slung casually at their sides. To her right was a stable, with people, obviously slaves from the way they walked and what they wore, who scuttled about doing chores. The horses that had pulled the wagon, for the last few days were led off by two young boys who had pale lines from the corner of their mouth and over their cheeks. Alanna stiffened in horror and quickly averted her eyes least they catch her staring. To her left was a big building where burly men in colours of red and purple, it was a terrible blend of colours. In groups, the men at arms came to the door until an entire crowd stood watching the slaves, calling out obscene suggestions and gesturing rudely. Alanna glared at them and turned Anya around, now realizing why they were not in chains. There was no escape from this fortress; death was the only freedom.

The lord and lady had gone ahead in a carriage drawn by horses with coats of snow. Its make was fine, and it seemed to glide over the land rather than hit every root and hole as the slave wagon had done.

They had given charge to an aging man, who looked to be about forty and who gave himself airs. He looked down upon the slaves even worse than the lord and lady who bought them did. He was cruel and often would drag a woman off by her hair to behind a bush and her screams would follow. None of the guards spoke out against him and though the look in their eyes often gave them away when they touched a woman, they never went further than an occasional kiss and touch. His name was Brophy, and he took pleasure in making his boss's slaves lives painful and difficult.

Striding to stand before the slaves, who were lined up, he barked instructions. "Your owners are the Lord and Lady of Golden Fields! You are to address them as such. They are your masters- your owners. Their will is your will. You do what they ask, no questions." His gaze roamed over the slaves to rest on Alanna, who glared at him.

"If you are disobedient, you will be severely punished," he said, seeming to speak only to Alanna. She snarled at him, and shifted her weight, still clutching her burning side. "You are to walk in a line through this door." He gestured at a small wooden door behind him. "And await further instructions."

Taking a deep breath, he surveyed the frightened slaves, all shaking in a huddle, all except the slave he had been told the lord had paid fourteen gold crowns for. The slave glared at him, her amethyst eyes a shocking contrast to her flaming red hair. Brophy licked his lips in anticipation; this one would be worthy of him. All the other women he took, they would not compare to this creature. _Yes,_ Brophy thought as the slave walked past him, the small girl in front of her, _this one would be his._

Alanna stood still, once again in breast band and loincloth as the mage ran his fingers over her ribs. Flinching, she cried out softly as he touched one of the broken ones. Pausing, the mage left his finger rest on her red and swollen skin.

The lord cleared his throat, and when the mage looked up, fixed him with a raptor stare. The mage gulped and hurriedly continued his examination of Alanna. Alanna shuddered under his touch, goose bumps gracing her skin as his hands strayed and lingered on her breasts and face. Moistening his lips, he drew his hand down to her navel.

As he went to go lower, Alanna snarled and moved quickly, ignoring her screaming ribs. Grabbing his hand, she pulled it backwards and kneed him between the legs, as he fell she held his arm. The mage clutched his groin with one hand while crying and begging for her to release his wrist.

There was a crack in the air and Alanna hurriedly stepped back, releasing the mage's hand, but she was too late. As the whip lashed across her back, again her arms jerked in reflex and the mage's hand snapped with a sickening crack and he fell to the floor, torn between holding his manhood and his broken wrist.

Alanna cried out as the whip descended to lap her skin again and again and again. "Please!" she pleaded after about eight lashes.

The lord raised his hand, and the lashing stopped. Alanna, who lay crying into the bloody floor, was hauled to her feet by unknown hands and dragged out of the room.

Delirious with pain she began to fight back, kicking, biting and scratching, methods she would be ashamed of later. A sharp blow to the head, and she hung in the guard's hands, stunned.

Coming to a door, it was opened and she was thrown in. Landing with a thud, she lay in a pile as an elderly woman waddled over to her and knelt next to her. Gentle fingers pulled back her shirt to reveal the marks of her whip lashed skin. Soft murmurs reached Alanna's ears as she gasped for breath, her ribs howling with every intake. A trickle of water dampened her skin, and Alanna's back unwillingly arched as her wounds protested. Finding no voice to scream with, she just lay there as her wounds were cleaned and dressed and when she was lowered onto a thin mattress.

As she slipped in and out of consciousness, she began to hallucinate and her past, the memories she wanted to remain buried, came back to haunt her.

Jonathan looked up as she walked in through the door that connected their two rooms. "Alanna," he rasped, looking as though he wanted to drown in her presence. "I'm- I'm so sorry."

Feeling alarmed, Alanna walked over to him. "Is everything alright?"

Jonathan shook his head and looked at the floor as tears threatened to fall out of his eyes. Standing up, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her, fiercely and possessively.

There were three hard knocks on his door, and Alanna made to get out of Jonathan's hold, but he hung on and whispered, "I'm so sorry." Before calling to the knocker to come in, that he had her. A group of stern faced guards marched in and two grabbed her as Jonathan passed her over.

Feeling confused, she looked at him and yelled, "Jon! What did you do?"

Then, the door shut behind them and she was marched down the corridors and into the Council of Wars chamber. The king and queen sat at the head of the table, Duke Gareth, Sir Myles, and various other high-ranking nobles all halted their chatter as she was led before the King. Shaking out of the guard's hold she glared at them.

"I can stand by myself, thank you," she snapped before turning and bowing to Their Majesties. Jonathan entered through another door and moved to sit next to his parents.

Alanna looked at him, puzzled and then turned to the rulers, awaiting an explanation.

"Alanna of Trebond?" the king growled.

Alanna nodded and then understanding dawned on her. The king knew her name. He knew who she was, and the only people she had told were George, his mother and Jon… Alanna's head snapped to Jonathan, who refused to meet her eyes, looking anywhere but at his squire, friend, and lover. The guards around her shifted closer, ready to pounce if she were to leap at him and hurt him.

Alanna's energy drained away. How could he? How could Jon betray her? Looking down, she hugged herself as the King asked for an explanation. Staring at the floor, she began speaking, " My name _is_ Alanna. I am of Trebond. My twin brother Thom and me, we look alike." She paused and swallowed. Glancing over to Myles' kind face, she continued bravely, "He didn't want to become a knight. I did and I didn't want to go to the convent. We switched places." Suddenly wanting to protect Thom, she added, "I talked and threatened him into it, so he went to be trained to be a sorcerer, and I came here to become a knight."

There was a rumbling and a stirring as the nobles protested this outrage. The doors opened as Coram was led in, and Alanna briefly met his eyes before returning to her examination of the floor.

Duke Gareth called for silence and spoke to Coram. "Coram, I cannot believe there was no way you didn't know about Alan- Alanna."

Coram turned red and examined the floor like Alanna. "No, Your Grace, I knew," he rumbled ashamed.

The Duke continued, his voice grim, "You do know that it is illegal?"

Alanna's head snapped up and she burst out. "It isn't Coram's fault!" she yelled, ignoring the disapproving looks she was getting. "I threatened to make him see things for the rest of his life, ask anyone! Coram hates magic and I threatened him to do it." Realizing all eyes were once again on her, Alanna quickly looked at the floor, muttering an apology to Duke Gareth.

The Duke nodded to the King. "That is true. Coram has a big fear of magic."

The king nodded and looked at Coram. "Did Alan-Alanna threaten you with magic?"

Coram shook his head as he stared at the floor.

The King frowned, "I need an answer," he snapped.

"No," Coram whispered.

A mage stepped forward. "That was a lie, Your Majesty," he said to the king.

King Roald looked at Coram, who squirmed and tried to make himself as small as possible. "It seems we cannot doubt your loyalty to Tortall. You may leave," the king ordered finally.

Coram shuffled out, with one final look to Alanna, and was gone.

Clearing his throat, Duke Gareth began to read out the charges against her, with the penalty being death.

At this, Jonathan's head jerked up and his eyes became panicked. "Death?" he gasped. "But she, I mean, she saved my life many times."

The King glared at his son. "That could have all been set up!" he hissed. "A ploy to gain your trust and then turn on you!"

Myles cleared his throat. "That may or may not be, Your Majesty, but you should consider what Alanna has done for Tortall."

Myles, trusty Myles. Alanna looked up at him and shook her head, wanting him to stay out of it. "No," she mouthed to him.

Myles pointedly ignored her and continued at Lianne's insistence, "Go on, Sir Myles."

Myles bowed and then began his account. "Firstly, Alanna saved Jonathan's life when he was dying of the Sweating Sickness."

At this, there were murmurs of agreement though there was competition, with a noble crying, "That could have been planned, a way to gain trust of the royal family!"

Alanna looked up and glared at him. About to open her mouth to snap back, she glanced over at Myles and held her silence. Though she didn't lower her head, she listened proudly to the good deeds she had done for Jon and for Tortall. When it came to the Drell Valley, she listened as Myles told the court that Alanna had come to him with the information and he had gone to the king, the king grudgingly confirmed this. He then told how Alanna healed thousands when she was injured and saved Jonathan from getting shot by an archer. When he told about the Ysandir or the Nameless Ones, no one was willing to dispute. All had heard about how the Bazhir had knelt on the streets for the prince and his squire to be.

Alanna stared blankly at the wall as Myles finished and bowed. Arguments broke out with half screaming for her to burn upon Traitor's Hill and the other half, mostly her teachers, arguing for all she had done she should be treated kindly.

With half the room divided between banishment and death, the king turned to his son. "Jonathan, what do you think"?

Jonathan's eyes flicked to Alanna unwillingly before he quickly looked anywhere but at her. "Why did you tell me about your squire?" Alanna felt a pang of betrayal at hearing the words, confirming what she already knew.

Jonathan gulped and looked down, "Because she is a woman," he said finally, grasping his hands.

The king smiled grimly. Standing, he declared, "For your crimes against the Crown, you, Alanna of Trebond, will be put to death!"

Alanna said nothing as the guards closed in on her, and missed the mortified looks of her teachers, the people who cared for her. She also missed the look of horror on Jonathan's face; Myles spotted it and stored it away for later use.

"Roald," the queen rasped, her sickness truly taking a toll on her health. The king leaned down to her, and she gasped, "I will not allow the woman who saved our son to be killed."

Jonathan looked at his mother in shock.

Roald glared at his wife. "She has broken our laws. Not only that, but imagine what our enemies…" he began but was interrupted.

"She has saved our son's life. Shall our enemies and allies say we are not merciful to those that assist us- those that help our people and kingdom? That we are too proud to spare the one who saved…" She choked off in a coughing fit, and Duke Braid made his way to her and placed a hand on her chest. The queen didn't need to complete her sentence, the meaning was clear. She wanted Alanna to live.

The king sighed and then proclaimed, "Alanna of Trebond, you are herby banished from within the realm of Tortall for seven years!" Jonathan gasped and Alanna looked up in shock- be without her beloved Tortall? "If you return, you are to be treated as a visiting noble from another country. From this day forth, you can no longer call yourself a Tortallan!"

Alanna felt numb, as she was lead down the hall to her room and given bags to pack her stuff, a group of guards stationed outside her door as she packed.

Tears streaked down her face as Faithful wound his way between her legs, purring comfortingly as only a cat can. There was a scuffle outside and then the door opened. Alanna continued to pack, ignoring Jonathan who stood in the doorway.

He closed the door behind him as he walked into the room, ignoring the guards. Locking the door, he watched Alanna pack. Alanna looked to the window; it had started raining.

"What do you want?" she snapped, her voice unable to show her feelings of pain and betrayal. Jonathan cautiously moved to stand behind her and she shied away from him.

Following her until she was pressed against the wall, he asked her to look at him. Alanna glared up at him through the tears, refusing to acknowledge her pounding heart as he reached up and brushed her tears away. Leaning down, until he was right in front of her he said, "I am so sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Then why did you tell?" Alanna snarled. "In a few months, I would have passed my Ordeal and I would be a knight! Then I would have told everyone." Alanna looked away as tears streaked across her face. "Why did you tell?"

Jonathan closed his eyes. "You wouldn't believe me-"

Alanna jerked back to look at him. "Try me."

Sighing, Jonathan haltingly began to speak. "I love you." Before Alanna could interrupt him, he pressed his mouth onto hers. Alanna's reply was lost as he kissed her, throwing all his love and passion into her lips. Breaking the kiss, he leaned back. "I couldn't bear the thought of you getting hurt, of you leaving me and not coming back."

There was a knock at the door, and Myles walked in. Jonathan stared at Alanna as she took this in and looked over at Myles.

Myles looked from Alanna to Jonathan and raised an eyebrow. "Alan-na," he said as he came closer. "You have to be gone within the next hour. The king commands it."

He looked to Jonathan, who still had Alanna pinned to the wall. Jonathan leaned back and let Alanna off the wall. She nodded to Myles and continued packing.

"Go away Jon," she whispered through her tears. "Please."

Jonathan nodded and clenched his jaw. His fingers twitched and he made to touch her, but at a hiss from Faithful he stopped. Lowering his head, his shoulders hunched, he walked into his room and shut the door.

Myles looked at Alanna, who was staring at Jonathan's door with something like desire. She was still crying as she packed. Myles walked over to her and wrapped her in an embrace. She returned the hug as hard as she could.

"Promise you will write?" he asked, rubbing her back.

Alanna nodded into his shirt, wetting it with tears. "When I can. I'll send them to George and he will send them on."

Myles nodded. Leaning back, Myles stared into her eyes. "None of this," he told her, "is your fault." Alanna nodded, and closed her eyes, furiously wiping tears. "You can still help people, Alanna of Trebond. Knighthood will not be your means." Sniffing, Alanna accepted the handkerchief Myles offered and blew her nose. "Keep it," he instructed her. "You will have more use of it than I."

Looking around and seeing the majority of her gear packed, Myles told Alanna, "I will go and get you some food for the journey and retrieve the letter from the king." Alanna's ears pricked up at the mention of a letter and Myles explained, "The king figured you would make straight for the Tusaine border, so he has instructions for the commander in charge to let you cross."

Alanna nodded and turned her back on her room as Myles left, telling her to saddle Moonlight and ordering the guards to carry her saddlebags down to the stables.

Deciding to make for a quick exit, Alanna allowed herself to be marched down the halls, past the curious looks of her fellow squires, pages, and the puzzled looks of many knights and to the stables. Stefan was awakened and stumbled out of the hayloft.

As soon as he saw "Alan" under guard he asked if he was needed. The captain of the guards who were Alanna's chaperones shook his head but asked for all of Alan's personal belongings to be packed onto the mare. Stefan looked at the piles and then looked at the small palomino horse and shook his head.

"That thar horse will a not hold all of that," he told the guard captain and stood his ground when the man glared at him.

Alanna sighed. She knew her trusty mare couldn't hold that much, but she didn't know what else to do. "I'll just take the bare essentials," she said and began to rearrange Moonlight's saddlebags.

Faithful, who had been wandering around the stables, appeared out of nowhere and took a flying leap to land on the special cup in her saddle. He sat there, regal and proud, as the guards stepped back, military training barely preventing them making the ward against evil above their chests. Faithful hissed at them and Alanna glared at them.

"He is just a cat," she snapped, and the guards were saved from an enraged rant as Myles came into the stables carrying a bag and a scroll.

Seeing the majority of Alanna's bags in a pile on the stable floor, he raised an eyebrow as he approached.

"Moonlight cannot carry all of my gear, so I have no choice," she informed him, answering his unasked question.

Myles appraised her and came to a decision. "I will store all of your belongings and keep them for you when you return," he told her, smiling gently when he saw her eyes light up in gratitude. "In the morning, I will have the belongings left in your room sent to Olau and stored."

Alanna tried to smile her gratitude through her tears and briefly thought about hugging him, but the presence of the guards halted her actions. With a flick of his hand, Myles dismissed them, saying, "What can this one girl do to me inside my king's palace?" when they questioned his orders. He dropped his food bags over Moonlight's saddle and embraced Alanna fiercely.

"Thank you, Myles," Alanna whispered as she returned the hug.

A stable boy came running up to Stefan, who was re-checking Moonlight's girth. "A horse is calicing in stall three," he told the stable master.

Stefan looked at Alanna. "Best be off, Squire Alan," he said, nodding to her. Alanna felt a pang; she hadn't the heart to tell him who she was. "I'll be letting His Majesty know come morning." With a final stroke of Moonlight's nose, he was gone, the stable boy trotting after him after shooting a puzzled look at Alanna, leaving her and Myles alone.

Swallowing, she looked at her mentor and friend. There was a loud rumbling, and light flashed across the sky; the storm that had been brewing was finally upon them. Feeling tentative about riding in such a storm, she considered staying until the storm passed, but she did not want to see the looks on her friends' faces when it was announced she was a traitor and was banished from Tortall.

Clenching her jaw, she allowed Myles to boot her into the saddle and guide her, Moonlight and Faithful to the open stable door. Staring out into the night, she saw the rain when lightning whipped and lit the water. Pulling her coat tighter around her and over her belongings, she gripped Myles's hand in a farewell squeeze and, before she lost her nerve, nudged her mare into the night, leaving Myles standing in the stable alone watching after her disappearing from view. There was a light on in the prince's room, but she refused to look, lest she see him once more.

**Authors Note:**

**Come one guys, where are my comments? I'm beginning to think no one is reading…**

**We will be seeing more of Jonathan and Co in the chapters to come :D**


	7. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Alanna slowly opened her eyes and wearily looked around her, a brief repast in her fever allowing her to think clearly. She lay on a thin mattress, and the marble floor pressed uncomfortably against her frame. There were multiple thin beddings around her, though to Alanna, it seemed they were as far away from her as possible. Next to her, there was a small square of cloth and on it sat little jars of foul smelling solutions.

The air was crisp and cold, and through the walls she could hear the bustle of pots and pans. Alanna realized the slaves' quarters were near the kitchens. Groaning, she brought her hands to her head and brushed her hair out of her eyes. To her surprise, it was longer than she remembered. At least a hand's width had been grown, and Alanna briefly wondered how.

Her musings were interrupted by a sharp yet soothing voice. "It's a side effect of the potions." Alanna raised herself onto her elbows, cautious of her ribs.

"You needn't worry about your ribs, child," the woman said, coming closer so Alanna could see her.

Her brown hair was silvering at the crown of her head and wisps were plastered across her face by sweat. Her wrinkles scrunched when she smiled or talked as she did now.

"Old Bessie's potions may smell and taste bad and cause hair growth, but they work as good as any mage work," the old lady said, coming to kneel next to Alanna. She unwound the cloth around Alanna's side and placed gentle fingers down her ribs. Alanna flinched; her fingers were cold. The women smiled, showing broken and crooked teeth. "Stand up, and let's have a look at you."

Alanna obeyed, barely registering she was bare but for a bellyband and her token from the Goddess, which surprisingly still touched her skin.

After rolling her shoulders a few times and performing poses the old woman barked, she stood in the sunlight waiting. The old woman had watched her with sharp brown eyes and now looked sad.

Alanna raised an eyebrow, and the woman stepped forward and ran her fingers down her face softly. "You, lass, you will be bound for the bedchambers soon enough, I'm afraid."

Alanna flinched even though she suspected that that was what it was to come to. "Why?" she croaked. Clearing her throat, she began again. "Why are you so sure?"

The woman, never releasing her hand from Alanna's chin, tilted her head in the light. "You are such an exquisite creature and the way you move…" she trailed off and released Alanna, who hugged herself.

"What do you mean? The way I move?"

The woman waddled over to a small closet and opened it. "You are strong and fit, perfect apart from the scars. The Lord, he—" she paused and pulled fabric down from the rails and beckoned Alanna closer. "He likes strong ones, ones that don't scream as loud or …break." Clearing her throat, she pulled the fabric around Alanna's body and placed pins. Alanna paled thinking of Anya. "The girl I came in with-"

"She is fine, for now. The Lord likes them older," the woman said grimly, "though even that wouldn't protect her if he had cause enough."

Alanna felt sick and enraged at the same time. She had listened to tale of the older female slaves she had encountered and all told of being used as a bed warmer. "How can the Lady allow-"

The old woman cut in. "Keep your voice down. Some people here would sell their own mothers for a favour." She gestured with her head towards the open door, where the clank of pots and pans began to start up again. "As for your question," the woman continued in a soft voice, "she turns a blind eye for she does the same. Any good looking slave and she find's 'special chores' for them to do." She seemed to hesitate in answering, it seemed as though she was leaving something out.

Alanna blinked. She had only thought the female slaves were used for sex, though now thinking about it she realised the male slaves would be used also, to keep despondent wives pleased.

A comfortable silence passed, and Alanna took a while to register she was being spoken to.

"What was that?" she asked, cursing herself for letting her guard slide, even near this seemingly frail old woman.

"I said, "the old woman repeated," 'what is your name?'"

Alanna blinked and decided she could tell this woman her name, since her fellow slaves would rat her out anyway. "Alanna," she answered hesitantly.

The slave woman nodded. "That's a nice name."

Alanna smiled briefly and asked, "What is yours?"

The woman leaned back to admire her handiwork. Alanna was clad in a simple tunic and simple brown leggings. "The name is Elizabeth, but everyone calls me Old Bessie." Alanna blinked, so this was the healer the old woman had referred to, herself! Bessie cocked her head to the side as Alanna straightened and stood tall as the lord strode though the door. Bowing low and murmuring "My lord," Old Bessie left at the lord's insistence, glancing warningly at Alanna.

The lord waited until the door closed before moving to stand in front of Alanna. She met his gaze fiercely until he moved suddenly, his arm raised for a slap. Alanna moved on instinct. Bringing her right arm to deflect his blow, she forced her fist into his face.

The Lord's nose broke with a sickening crunch, and he fell to the floor in pain. Alanna backed away in horror; she knew her punishment would be severe. "I'm- I'm so sorry." She blabbed in fear as he lay moaning into the floor.

Rushing quickly to the cupboard, she withdrew a cloth and handed it to her master before quickly retreating out of his reach. Sitting up, he dabbed his nose gently, soiling the virgin fabric. Glaring daggers at Alanna and with a nasty grin promising revenge, the lord made his way out and into the kitchen. There were gasps of horror and pity as kitchen maids saw the lord's broken nose.

He barked orders and then his voice was lost as he walked away from the slave quarters, above the kitchen. Alanna gulped and moistened her lips as Old Bessie waddled in a few minutes later, a mixture of respect and desolation on her face.

She shook her head as she gestured for Alanna to follow her. Alanna followed her without comment as she was led through the kitchen and the mortified stares of the kitchen slaves. There was a delicious aroma that hit Alanna like a brick and she heard her stomach grumble in appreciation.

As they turned down a corridor, she spoke softly, as though afraid the very walls would hear her words. "That was brave, foolish but brave."

Alanna turned to her and frowned. "He was going to hit me, so I hit him first."

Old Bessie once again shook her head slowly, sorrow in her eyes. "You have fire in you lass, and the oord or even his men will enjoy taming the spirit in you." Alanna glared ahead of her and clenched her jaw.

"It has happened often enough," Old Bessie continued in a soft voice. "The lord buys girls like you from the slave market and slowly breaks them of their spirit." Alanna felt sick, again, though this time it was for herself. She was fairly certain her pride would not allow her to back down. "Be hopeful only the lord wants to break you. He is—"the old woman paused as she came to an oak door. Rapping on it three times, she waited, "more… gentle… than the others."

She opened the door as a voice ordered from beyond the door. Alanna looked at Bessie in distress before she was roughly grabbed and hauled into the room by two huge guards. They closed the door with a slam and pushed her into the center of the room, taking guard in front of the door, their muscles chiselled in their tunics.

Pivoting to glare at them, she returned her attention to the inhabitants of the room. The lady sat gracefully on silk cushions, her skirts billowing around legs, and the lord sat straight in a tall chair, a cloth to his nose still.

Another man was in the room, apart from the two guardsmen. He was clothed in black that hugged his frame, his muscles bulging beneath the leather. His brown hair was short and the skin that was showing spider webbed silver lines. Scars, Alanna realized after a moment's appraisal. The man who held himself alert but relaxed, that stood with animal like grace in stillness, had many scars and had eyes as cold as winter was a warrior. No, he wasn't a warrior; he was a killer. She hadn't had time to stare at him before as she had not seen him. She realized he was the lasher by the snake like coil at his waist. He met her stare openly, even allowing a small grim smile in her direction, as he looked her over in a single glance.

The lord cleared his throat, and Alanna turned to look at him. Silence ensued for a minute and then two. Finally, he began to speak. "You have cost me a great deal, slave," he spat with venom. Alanna said nothing and bit back a retort. "Firstly, I had to buy you." He paused as Alanna snarled at him. The Whip master focused on Alanna, his sparrow like wondering eye resting on her for mere seconds before flirting away. "Then I had to pay the mage for the damage you did, and lost myself a valuable ally in the court. On top of that, my nose will not heal the way it was because I no longer have a mage and because no slave of mine could heal a pin prick!" His voice rose to shouting as he finished his sentence.

The lady looked at her husband from beneath her lashes but said nothing. Alanna glared at her owner and slowly shifted into subtle fighting stance, thinking she could reach back and grasp the guard's sword and then attack him and his companion.

The lord continued speaking, but Alanna ignored him and tensed slowly, ready to make her move. The whip master straightened and shifted his body toward Alanna, slightly ever so slightly, but enough for her to notice the difference.

She looked up and met his green eyes. They gleamed a challenge. As Alanna remained in a slight crouch, his hand strayed towards his ivory whip handle and his fingers twitched mere millimeters above it.

Alanna, understanding his threat, slowly released her straining muscles and stood straight again. Turning to the lord, she heard his order for her penalty. "-…. Raku," the whip master bowed, "will fulfill the punishment."

Alanna looked over at him in semi-horror, her eyes snagging on his whip. She recoiled slightly, and the lord gestured to the guards. As they marched up behind her, she spun and lashed out as they grabbed for her. Her foot connected with a guard's shin, and he cried out in pain.

The other guard grabbed her as her foot dropped for balance and she prepared to strike again. Wrapping her in a bear hug, he pinned her arms, but he forgot how slippery a small person could be and Alanna slithered out of his grasp. Elbowing him in the side, she slammed her palm into his face, and he stumbled back onto the cushions the lady was sitting on. The other guard hobbled forward as she faced him and then dove for her. Panting, Alanna sidestepped his first blow and then slammed her hand into the side of his neck; he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

A noise behind her made her turn. The whip master Raku had knocked a vase off a table in order to get her attention. Now he had his arms loosened and his face took an almost peaceful look. Then, as quick as a snake, he struck. His arm flicked towards hers, and as she moved to block, his long legs snaked out and flicked her legs out from under her.

Stepping back a bit, he allowed her to rise and she did, slowly and cautiously, watching him the entire time. His body gave no indication of his next move, and he flung his body across the distance separating them. He aimed a carefully controlled punch to her side and she swiftly deflected it, understanding he was teasingly keeping his blows at minimum and was moving at a much slower pace than he could.

Deciding she had nothing to lose by showing him the range of her skills, she attacked him. Moving from blow to fend across the room, Raku moved evenly with her, matching every move with an attack that left her breathless and on the defensive. Hand-to-hand combat was never her best subject, and she knew that Raku was far superior to her.

Throwing caution into the wind, she attacked him with everything she had, holding back nothing like she had before. His slow smirk was beginning to annoy her, and she wanted nothing more than to whack it off his face. He moved confidently; every move he made looked to be calculated behind cold green eyes that seemed to glow from within.

Finally, he ended the bout, at the lord's angry insistence, by a spinning kick to her stomach and a sharp but measured blow to the head. Alanna tumbled back in a daze, and the room tilted before spinning wildly. Alanna blinked at the carpeted floor, realizing she was lying on the floor but not quite comprehending how she had got there.

Strong muscular arms crossed her vision, and she was lifted into the air and held away from her carrier's chest as the Lord led them out the room. She blinked tiredly as the tapestries covering the walls flashed past her. Movement halted as they came to a door and restarted once the door was opened.

Alanna was lowered onto the cold marble floor. She briefly noticed it was as white as snow. There was a clanking and the familiar rattle of chains as they were clamped around her wrists. Alanna squirmed but could do little else, for her head was spinning and everything was fuzzy.

Her body was lifted off the floor and she was raised up, her wrists held at opposite raised angles. There was grunting, and Alanna felt her entire body lift, and she attempted to get to her feet to relieve the pressure on her shoulders. Cool fingers to her skull vanquished her fuzzy surroundings, and as Alanna opened her eyes, everything swam into focus, sharper than normal, as was her hearing, before like the toll of a bell, it faded back to normal.

Looking around, she saw two wooden structures with a beam with ruts in it and the remainder of her chains running through it. The chains ran from her wrists up to a lower point on the stout wooden pole and then ran down into a round cog. There was a handle and the chain started from the round cog it was on. There was a matching structure on her other side. Raku, whom she guessed had carried her, for the guards were absent and the lord would not lower himself so much to carry a slave, stood behind her. His fingers had fixed the confusion in her head.

The lord stood in front of her, leering into her face. Gesturing at Raku, he smiled as the catch on the cog clicked as the handle was turned. Alanna began to panic as she realized the handle was tightening her chain, and she was slowly being lifted off her feet.

Squirming, she tried to pull the chin off with her other arm, but her reach was too short. The Lord slapped her around the face. "Now you will truly understand the punishment for those that disobey me."

Raku moved silently across to the over device and began to crank the handle, his muscles straining with the effort. Alanna felt herself stretch out and cried out as her arms and shoulders once again held her body weight. Straining, she found her toes could just kiss the marble floor, though it was very little relief.

The lord grinned at her pain and then spoke to Raku. "Ten lashes for the damage to the mage, five lashes a piece for the damage to my two faithful guards, and ten lashes for damage to myself," he said and Alanna's heart sank, because she could count. "Thirty lashes should do it," he ordered as he opened the door and left after one final smirk at Alanna.

Alanna began to sweat as the door shut with a final dooming clink. "Please," she begged hoarsely to Raku as he slowly uncoiled his whip.

He paused and looked at her sadly. "You have spirit child." His voice was surprisingly light and gentle."That is not a good thing if you are a slave."

Alanna shook her head, ashamed she had been reduced to begging. "Please no."

Raku came over to her, his eyes sad, and cupped her cheek with long, callused fingers. "A wise man once told me that all pain is fleeting. It may last a minute, an hour, a day, or even a year, but eventually, it will subside and something else will take its place. If you quit or surrender to the pain, however, then it is eternal." Raku stared into her eyes and she gazed back in fear.

Moistening her lips, she nodded sharply, and, for a brief moment, her eyes shone with determination. Raku walked behind her and stood with his back to the wall, the whip raised. "Find a place inside," he instructed, "where there is joy and bliss and let it cool the flames of pain."

Alanna gritted her teeth and shut her eyes, determined not to scream. Narrowing his eyes, Raku flicked his wrist, and the ivory handle gleamed in the light before snapping forward, its coal cable streaming out behind it.

The King of Thieves glared furiously at the Prince of Tortall, Jonathan, as he made his way into the Dancing Dove flanked by Gary and Raoul. His grip tightened on his tankard of ale until his knuckles turned white.

As Gary and Roaul sat down and nodded in greeting, George kept his eyes locked on the prince's sapphire ones. "Get out," he hissed in fury, his tone daring Jon to argue.

The prince blinked in surprise. "Look, George, I only-"

George Cooper, resident King of the Rogue in Tortall, didn't allow him to finish. "You are not welcome here!" he thundered, getting to his feet. The men and women of his court all turned to look at who had caused their usually quiet Kkng to yell. Gary and Raoul got to their feet also, ready to jump in front of Jon should George decide to attack him, and, judging by the look on his face, he might. George looked to them both and snarled, "You both are still welcome here. You are still 'friends.'"

"George I only want to talk," Jonathan protested.

George glared at him. "I think you have done enough talking."

Jonathan blushed and looked at the floor. Gary and Raoul looked at each other and then cautiously sat, ready to leap up at the slightest notice.

Conscious of the thieves drifting closer, George concealed his rage behind a blank mask. "I ask you to never return, Johnny." George was no longer a friend. He was now who the King of the Court of the Rogue, and as he spoke his voice betrayed a command, not a request. "We don't allow traitors here."

Jonathan's head snapped up. "I am not a traitor!" he snapped.

"Oh, really?" George's voice showed shock. "So betraying one of your best friends, a friend that has saved your life countless times, is not betrayal? It doesn't make you a traitor?"

Gary and Roaul looked at Jonathan, who was still glaring at George, though he seemed to lose his spirit as George continued, "We may be thieves, Jonathan, but we at least care about our friends and wouldn't betray them."

Jonathan looked down and then scuffed his foot. When he looked up, tears were in his eyes. "I didn't think she would be banished. I never meant for that," he said softly enough that the other thieves couldn't hear, and he slowly turned around and walked out into the night.

Gary and Raoul looked at each other, undecided. George turned to them. "You both are still welcome here. In truth, I enjoy your company."

They nodded and then got to their feet. Clearing his throat, Gary said, "We will come back, but just us."

Raoul nodded to George as he followed Gary out after Jonathan.

The King of Thieves watched them go, his eyes betraying his only emotion. To those who knew him, his heart looked as though it had been ripped out and then trampled by a stamped of horses, but of course no one knew him well enough, nor could they guess at the reason for his pain.

**Authors Note:**

**As always review! I really need the confidence boost my few loyal readers. So come on my 287 hits and 78 visitors!**

So, what do you think is going to happen to Alanna? PM me and guess! Or give me some chapter names and Ill offer you a spoiler

**spazzysassyangel****:** I gave you George now you give me Review! ;)

Best Regards, Con Dar Lioness 


	8. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

The Master's cold blue eyes snapped open, and he slowly rose to his feet, casting shadows across his chambers. The heavy wooden door to his chamber opened on its own accord as he strode down into the torch lit halls. Guards stiffened to attention as he approached and bowed submissively until he was out of sight. Flames danced over their armour and gleamed off the walls. Striding through a door with symbols in an ancient and almost forgotten language above its frame, he stepped off the stairwell. The obsidian cape he wore lifted and waved like a banner as he plummeted towards the marble floor. With a single thought, the Master's pale blue Gift halted his fall, and he landed softly on the glassy stone.

An immaculate coal robe, its only decoration ruby embroidery in a narrow band around the neck and down the front, covered his stocky frame to within an inch of the charcoal marble tiles of the floor. He wore no jewellery apart from the simple chain that banded his neck, a gleaming ring set in volcanic glass and the blade at his waist. The belt it hung on was made of the finest gold wire. Short black hair was slicked to his head, and black stubble hugged his chin in a short, sharp beard. His eyes were a painfully handsome shade of pale blue that seemed to stare into the depths of one soul. His features would have set off his eyes perfectly were it not for the scar across his left eye.

The Master carried himself with the authority of the gods and walked unafraid down, deeper into the earth in the heart of the castle. This was his domain. Ravenous beasts growled as he approached the room at the end of the darkness, a shadow room seemingly darker than death itself. Tooth and claw, the occasional gleam of an eye met him as he reached the door, and, with a scream the beasts, savage beyond comprehension launched themselves at him. A pale muscular wrist flicked up, and a wall of blue hit the animals, which howled and backed away. Speaking in a harsh language that commenced deep within his throat, the Master ordered his creations back to the shadows.

Reaching the room, he walked through the archway that, in the same dead and powerful language as the doorway before, ordered the spirits to give way. Summoning his Gift until its blue flames surrounded his fingers, he cast it over the archway and streaks of blue wound their way like vines through the shadows until they retreated. The Master grunted and then walked into the centre of the earth.

The room was stark in contrast to the path it took to get to it. White granite covered the entire room, from the pillars laced with gold, to the floor tiles with silver gracing the cracks and the single smooth column that blended into the room. The room itself was as perfect as a crescent moon, obviously magic created, with only a slight rounded shadow distorting the half pillar from the rest of the white. Gems over every colour seemed to float on the roof, smaller ones getting larger as they approached the centre where a vast diamond pulsed with power, an epicentre for the magical jewels surrounding it.

Heat greeted him in waves. His magic immediately shimmered over his skin, protecting him from the heat and enabling him to breathe. Grunting once again, this time in discomfort, the Master made his way to the pedestal and sat himself in meditation. Closing his eyes, the master began to breathe slowly, without hesitation surrendering to the call of raw power from the gems that surrounded him. Summoning his Gift in a beam of power, he sent all his magic spiralling towards the diamond directly above him. The diamond's aura glowed pale blue for mere seconds before shooting rays directly into the stones around it. The magic twisted slowly around every stone until they had an inner glow of blue.

The Master began to speak in a language forgotten by even the gods, his voices, mental, magical and physical joined together to roar out instructions. Seeping his being into the magic, the Master stretched across the world, sinking himself into every crevice that graced the earth's surface. Like a Kraken, he released his tentacles until all the life forces of the creatures below the stars and above his residence flicked in his inner vision. Those with the Gift burned brighter than others, and those with Great gifts, such as the great black robe mages glowed in his mind.

Calling to the power to take a form, the Master sent a probe in search for the one who had called for him. The magic shook itself and raised its wings in salute before gliding as an invisible shadow across the oceans, mountains and deserts. Shrinking, it came to perch above a channel of power, one of the many in the world, in Tusaine.

Sending his being flowing through the magic, he travelled the veins of power within the earth to come to stand below the Tusaine funnel. Shooting up it, he hovered to gain a bearing of his surroundings. One of his slaves knelt bowed towards the power, muttering phrases in the ancient language over and over again. Calling forth the magic to shape him, he stepped forward, in front of the slave.

The slave jerked before bowing even deeper and whispering, "Master, I serve until my destruction", before staying respectfully silent.

The Master nodded, pleased with the slave's reaction. "What is it you wish, slave?" he asked harshly, enjoying the way the slave quivered as he answered.

"There may be a complication in the mission, Master."

The Master stroked his beard thoughtfully.

"And how might that be?" he demanded of the shuddering slave before him. Deciding he was above waiting for an answer, he drove his mind into that of his slave's. The slave had been trained well, as were all slaves sent into the field. The slave could shield the magnitude of his Gift, and disguise his powerful mind behind that of an in-competent fool. Though his strength was minute compared to that of his Master and his mind barriers caved under a single blow.

The slave cringed away from him in pain, though did not fight back, knowing the consequences would be vast should he be anything but a submissive slave. A face swam into view and the Master saw though the slave's eyes. A young girl with eyes of lavender fields and a mane of fire was standing over a mage with his hand raised in a begging gesture. There was a crack of a whip, and the girl immediately moved to escape its lash. She was seconds too late, and she jerked as the whip lashed across her back. Following her jerk was a sharp snap, as the wrist of the mage she was holding broke as she flinched away from the whip.

Withdrawing from the slave's mind, the Master lowered his mind over Tusaine, searching until he found the girl. He paused briefly in surprise. A god's chosen! Examining her with his inner mind, he saw her Gift flared and strained against her skin, seeming in search of an escape. A questioning thought came from the Gift as he gently touched it and then he stood in shock as it unsheathed its claws and took a swipe at him. The girl herself looked up from where she was peeling potatoes and looked around her cautiously, feeling something had upset her but not knowing what it could be.

The single taste of her Gift and the Master knew what this one was._A lioness_, he thought as he returned to the slave. The slave looked up at him, itching to move though not daring to do so. Examining the slave, he said. "She should not pose a threat." He thought back to the girl's gift's reaction, and added, "However, should she get in the way of the mission, I trust you to remove her from the equation."

The slave nodded and bowed again. "Master."

The Master sunk his being back into the magic and withdrew his threads until his magic was once again inside him, and the power of the earth was untainted, ready to be called upon and used at his will. Opening his eyes, he slowly got to his feet, used to taxing endeavours such as the one he had just done. Every time he dove into the earth's power, the wild raw and seductive magic that fabricated life, he felt his grip on reality slipping. The need to return to hisown body seemed insignificant to the call of the wild magic. The only reason the Master had remained on the throne of his home was because he had restraint, though only when it came to the raw magic. However, it seemed he was using it for irrelevant tasks that did not require it, such as contacting a slave halfway across the world.

Yes, the Master decided, he would have to be very careful and not lose himself to the call as so many of his peers, former superiors, and slaves had done.

Queen Lianne watched as her son danced smoothly around the floor, the court beauty Lady Delia of Eldorne hanging on his arms. Lianne sighed- subtly of course. She had noticed the way her son had deteriorated ever since his squire had been banished. She was sure her husband, the king knew also. Even the castle staff gossiped as to the possible reasons of the prince's deterioration.

It was a well-known fact the prince had become withdrawn, often drinking himself to sleep. He attended his classes, as a prince should, but Lianne knew he did it only because it was expected of him. He had also remained stony and cold toward his father, bordering on being rude. At balls, such as the one tonight, he would stay only for as long as protocol demanded before excusing himself.

Lianne shifted in her seat and slowly brought a crystal glass to her mouth. As she took a dainty sip, she noticed through the glass another watching her son. Sir Myles. The grey-eyed knight was sipping from his own wine glass and watching as Jonathan bowed to another lady before twirling her around the floor. His movements were sluggish and he seemed to have to force himself to move. Myles looked thoughtful, and as the lady hastened away from the stony prince, his eyes narrowed and he nodded to himself.

The queen saw this, and, though she was beginning to feel fatigued, she made a decision. Her eyes fluttered weakly, and Duke Baird noticed. He excused himself and wound his was through the dancing nobles towards her. With a bow, he told her she should rest. Lianne looked at him for a moment before nodding and slowly but gracefully rising to her feet. The king glanced over at her, worried but caught up in watching his son with a frown on his face. She smiled to show she was well and allowed Baird to accompany her to her chambers.

Sitting gracefully down, her skirts spreading as was appropriate, she asked the duke if he would fetch Sir Myles for her. The duke nodded and bowed, curiosity in his eyes as he walked out of her and her king's rooms.

Lianne was dozing when there was a knock at the door. "Come in," she called softly and Duke Braid bowed, followed by Sir Myles, as they both entered the room.

"Please sit." She gestured with a feminine hand to two chairs. Myles nodded and sat down in the chair; Braid hesitated for a moment but then joined him at her insistence.

Gathering her thoughts, she slowly spoke. "I would like it that none of what we discuss ever leaves this room." Myles and Baird exchanged a glance before nodding. "I have noticed my sons seems-" Lianne hesitated before continuing, "different."

"Ever since that girl, his squire, was banished he has been acting strange." Lianne stopped, and the looks on Myles' and Baird's faces told her they knew what she was talking about.

Duke Braid nodded and leaned forward. "Yes, he seems to be-"

"Heartbroken," Myles cut in and raised an eyebrow when the Qqeen and duke looked to him with disbelief in their eyes.

Clearing his throat, the duke requested, "Please continue that train of thought, Sir Myles."

Myles blinked, and nodded his hands before him, he to leaned in. "I am going to assume you have been heartbroken?" he asked of no one in particular. "The symptoms are fairly easy to determine." He glanced at the queen for permission to continue talking. When she nodded, he continued, "The dejected walk, shoulders hunched, lifeless eyes. To lose a lover is to despair." Myles ignored the semi-horrified look on the queen's face as he went on, "To lose a friend causes one's soul to wander aimlessly in the shadows, searching in the silence." At his words, Queen Lianne leaned back in thought, and the duke looked at Myles with respect in his eyes.

Moistening his lips Duke Baird asked, "So, he is deeply upset his best friend is presumed dead?"

Myles looked at the duke and frowned.

"I know that that is what was assumed, but I have taught Alanna, as have many of the realms finest. I, personally, do not believe she is dead."

The Queen blinked and wiped sleep from her eyes.

"Your Majesty, you must rest." Duke Baird said worriedly, rising to his feet.

Lianne frowned at the palace's chief healer and shook her head.

"Not until I can help my son," she snapped, though politely of course. The duke sighed and resumed his seat. "I do not like the way Jonathan has been treating Roald," she continued in a softer voice. "I know he blames his father for Alanna's banishment, but he was the one who turned her in."

Myles nodded and stroked his beard in thought. "The prince has my class tomorrow. I will be sure to talk to him. Alanna came to talk to me, perhaps Jonathan will also." He blinked. "Though if he requests it, I will not divulge the content of our conversations."

Baird was nodding and said to the Queen, "Myles is right. I believe it fair if Jon asks his conversations to remain private, they should remain so, though I am sure Sir Myles would inform us immediately if Jon were to consider harming himself or others."

At this, the queen looked appalled, but she nodded her agreement anyway.

"Thank you," she said before rising, Myles and Baird hastening to do the same. "I bid you good night."

The dismissal was clear, and Sir Myles and Duke Baird bowed their way out, leaving the queen to ponder the content of this night's conversation.

The man's long strides took him further into the room, and he paused after shutting the door and securing the catch. Cocking his head, he watched the woman at the window plane, leaning out into the night, a peaceful expression on her face. Loath to interrupt her peace, but needing to hold her, he paced forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. Nuzzling her neck, he inhaled her scent as she leaned back into him.

"I'm sorry I'm late," he whispered, his breath warm on her ear. "That meeting took forever."

"That's fine," she said with a smile. "They say absence makes the heart grow fonder." The man laughed softly as she turned to look up at him."I have to get up early. I should go to bed."

The man felt his face heat; he had not sat for three hours in a stuffy room just to come to an empty bed! Laughing softly, the woman leaned up to kiss him, and he pulled her tighter, deepening the kiss, forgetting he had begun to get annoyed.

Shuffling forward, he sat her on the windowsill and kissed her. After kissing her fervently for a few moments, the man pulled her into the room as she removed her clothes. His own were tossed to the floor seconds later, and she went and sat on the bed, looking up at him with desire in her eyes.

Gesturing with an index finger, she let him press her onto the bed as she ran her fingers threw his hair. Gazing into her amethyst eyes, he whispered, "I love you, Alanna of Trebond." The woman smiled at him again, a small special smile and in response reached up to kiss him passionately.

Queen Lianne of Conte swiftly sat up in bed, panting breathlessly. Next to her, her husband lay, sleeping like a child. Pulling back her sheets she sat up and her bare feet padded across the carpeted floor to a small washroom. Leaning in front of the mirror, she splashed water on her face to wake herself up. Patting her flesh with a towel, she gazed at her own reflection.

She had known her son for all of his young life. She had comforted him when he was afraid of the dark and wiped his tears away when he fell of his horse for the first time. It had been four moon cycles since Alan of Trebond, or Alanna, the prince's famed squire had been banished from Tortall. It had been a week short of that when they received word of the mare returning rider-less and bloodstained to the castle. And Lianne never knew. She never knew her son was in love. And now, instead of feeling joy for her son, all she felt was pity. He now believed he had killed his best friend and lover.

Thinking back to it, ever since the Drell valley battle with Tusaine, Jonathan had been less interested in the ladies of the court and often opted to spend more time with his squire. It was not looked upon as strange; everyone knew they were good friends. Now Lianne realized exactly what he had been getting up to with his squire, she felt a moment of betrayal, for she would have liked to know her son was in love. Even though logically it would never have turned into a marriage, the nobles would have a fit.

Sighing, she replaced her towel and walked back to her bed, electing to speak to her son as soon as possible.

**Authors Note: **

**Wow, that really wasn't supposed to happen. Stupid bloody Alanna wasn't interested in doing what I wanted her to! Ohwell, I guess that's just why I love her. But it is so annoying!**

**Anyway, as always review! I need some more people, I cant write without them!**

Enchanted Bunny: Thank you. Thank you very much. But what exactly do you like?

MeepaHorsegirl: Yay for George! But I cant tell you! Your just going to have to wait to find out. Raku, well he's…. Different…

spazzysassyangel: Naturally! :D

starlock: Hi, dont think I have seen you before. Welcome. Ill work on it.

Novus Ars: Maybe, maybe not. ;) No she still has her magic, as you found out.

kill4blood: ;) I'll never tell. Yay! That made my day to read that! Tell your friends ( I want more reviews, or even readers)

**Also, anyone willing to Beta for me, let me know. I just want my gramma looked at. Its terrible, I know **** Preferably someone who doesn't like my Fan-fic. I don't want to spoil the story for them.**

**^^^^^I'm not desperate so don't rush, that's why I haven't gone looking for one :D^^^^^^^^**


	9. Chapter Eightsorry about the wait

Chapter Eight

Sighing, the lord shuffled through the papers on his desk absentmindedly.

Moistening his lips, he re-read the letter before him before snarling in rage and hurling it into the roaring fireplace. Pushing his chair from his desk sharply, he strode over to the wall cabinet and withdrew a highly priced bottle of the country's finest wine. Pouring himself a glass, he downed it and began to pour himself another, muttering angrily, when a voice spoke, "I'd like one, if you will."

The lord jerked and hurriedly pivoted towards the voice.

Lounging comfortably in his own leather chair was a figure, cloaked head to toe in satin black. Ruby embroidery was the only repast from the flowing robes of coal. Two booted feet rested mockingly on his desk, and piercing pale blue eyes stared right through him.

Gulping, the lord swiftly retrieved another glass and offered it hastily to his guest. A cruel smirk crossed the master's face as he calmly accepted the wine. "You know who I am?" he asked calmly, his tone low and stony.

The lord swallowed in terror and nodded quickly. Moistening his lips, he jerkily inclined his head in submission, careful to keep his eyes always aware of the master's position, thinking himself fast enough to scream for help if the master were to strike.

Sniffing in disdain, the master took his boots off the oak desk and rose fluidly to his feet, the obsidian robes cascading off his body like water at the movement.

"You know why I am here," the master began as he drifted over to the bookshelf.

The lord nodded again, fear etched on his features. For any who knew of the lord, seeing him terrified of a single man, reduced to a fragment of his former confident self, it would seem almost comedic before they began to wonder at _who_ could inspire such trepidation in one of the lands most powerful mages.

"I understand that you wish my-" the master paused and raised an eyebrow, the scar pulling his face into a lopsided smile- "personal services."

Bowing again, lowering himself to a position he rarely used, the lord spoke smoothly, "Yes, if that is possible."

"It is considered treachery to want the death of one's own royals," the master said mildly as he scanned the bookshelf. Finding nothing of interest, he strode to the lord's chair and sprawled himself on it as the lord looked about him in shock, hoping there had been none to hear the conversation.

"I consider myself a more…capable…. candidate for the throne than those upon it now. If they must be removed to reach my goals, then so be it." The lord spoke calmly, having already made the decision to rid his people of their royals and place himself on the throne.

A crimson apple appeared in the master's hand, and he slowly sank his teeth into the pale flesh. "And the fact they are your blood would cause you no distress?'

The lord cleared his throat. "I would have thought that since I called for your services, I was willing to do whatever that I must to get my hands on the throne."

The master's eyes narrowed, and he slowly crunched the apple as an icy silence descended upon the room, quiet but for the occasional cracks from the fireplace.

Leaning towards the lord, the master hissed, "Our services cost a great deal, though they are custom created to suit client needs."

The Lord inclined his head." When I am on the throne, gold and jewels will adorn my bed."

Blue eyes narrowed, and the lord began to sweat. "We only accept payments before, not after. Nor do we refund your expenses if you decide you do not wish to continue with our services, though we can-" the master paused and grinned evilly, "for a price."

The lord swallowed and frowned. "I will not leave this country under the sovereignty of this king, and your services will be required until the job is finished."

The master nodded slowly, sparks flaring in his icy eyes. "As this task requires subtlety and skill, more than a simple assassination, a slave will have to stay in the field for an extended amount of time."

Pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of his shirt, the master began to read,with a flick of his wrist the paper flattened and the lord's seal could easily be seen. A serpent with bared fangs coiled tightly around a skull with a single gem dangling from a thread of wire. "La lalalala ...request..._Death to be sudden and without any loose ends, entire royal family assassinated. The king will know death is coming for him in the form of shadows. No suspicion in my direction and guarantee that there will be no witnesses."_

The master looked up at the Lord. "This will be child's play, though it will take a while to set up."

The lord nodded and cleared his throat. "Whatever you feel needs to be done."

Wetting his lips, the master continued, "I will position an agent within the royal household to gain information, along with others in various noble houses'."

The lord nodded and began to rock his glass. "How much is this going to cost me?"

The master looked at him appraisingly for a few moments before a cruel gleam came to his eyes. Stepping forward, he leaned down to whisper a price into the lord's ear. The lord's eyes widened in horror and he backed away in anguish.

"No!" he gasped. "I cannot pay that!"

The master shrugged his broad shoulders calmly. "I have no need for what measly state your treasury is in. Gold can be taken, diamonds can be made, and land can be conquered. You have naught to offer me in the way of wealth."

The lord paled and hung his head in his hands as he started to shake. "I can't-" he cleared his throat as tears threatened to spill. "I can't pay that."

The master sighed. "If you cannot pay for our services, then you cannot have them; you will have to find another way to murder your monarchs."

The master straightened and drew his cloak around his face, effectively hiding hid features. "And let's face it, you can always make more."

Striding over to the window, he opened it with a thought, so that it swung silently open into the night.

"Wa-wait!" the lord called after him. The master slowly turned and raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes slowly igniting.

"I'll, I'll pay," the lord gulped and looked down, ashamed.

A cruel smile twisted the masters' face. "I will take my payment within the next few months, and no trace will be left."

The lord sighed and grimaced as though in pain before slowly sinking into his chair.

The master slowly slipped out the window cat-like before calling back to the lord, "You will be on the throne before the termination of the new year."

The lord thumped his head on the desk thinking over the pros and cons of what he had just agreed to. True, he was now guaranteed the death of his royals but the price he had to pay... Suddenly feeling sick, he made his way to the liquor and began to drink as though he were dying of thirst.

In the darkness, a raven launched itself into the stars, an ominous foreshadowing of the shadows to come.

Peering into the papers, the man sighed and shook his head. Re-ordering them into order of importance, he rounded a corner and narrowly missed crashing into a messenger. He swiftly apologised before quickly moving on, for he was already late. He was walking past another hallway when he heard a noise. Pausing, he glanced into the cobwebbed doorway. The noise repeated, and the man slowly turned and stared hesitantly into the dim light.

A long pale hand snaked out of the darkness and silenced his scream for help.

He was dragged back into a secluded corner and a blade caressed his throat.

"If you wish to continue your fruitless existence, you will stay your tongue," a threatening voice informed him. The man nodded and the gloved hand was removed from his mouth.

"Do not speak," the voice ordered. "Do not ask questions. You are now an informant."

The man frowned and opened his mouth to speak.

"No," the voiced interrupted angrily. "You do not speak; you listen."

"You have a beautiful wife," the voice remarked. "How did you manage to seduce her? And your child, too precious for one such as you." The voice paused, and goose bumps graced the servant's neck. "Perhaps they would be more accustomed to life with the Black God?"

The blade was slowly withdrawn, and the servant stepped away and turned to face the speaker. A black hood covered his face, but a layer of soft fresh subtly powdered what skin that was visible. The hood carried down over muscled shoulders and down a long body to end at knee height, split to allow for easy movement. A leather harness looped over one shoulder split into two and joined by a clasp at the wearer's chest. On the leather was a pouch with the hilts of small throwing knives peaking over his shoulder. A crude curved blade, a sliver of the blackest steel hung from a smooth belt of black, blending into the attire. Plain obsidian leggings fell from beneath the cloak and met shinny coal boots. The boots themselves were fashioned for sturdiness and strength, and a few steps allowed the servant to see the gleaming pommel of a knife hidden inside the boot, tucked between the wearer's ankle and the leather.

"I am but a simple messenger for my master." He pointed to himself. "This is nothing personal but you will do what I ask. If you don't," he stressed, "your wife and child will pay for your disobedience."

The servant nodded, wide-eyed in fear as the messenger continued, "You will be approached, when the time is right, by one of my comrades. You will do _exactly_ what they want or your family will join the Black God ahead of schedule. Should you complete your tasks well, you will be rewarded."

The messenger nodded to him and then slid out of the hallway, moving smoothly from wall to wall and to the beams of the room, remaining unseen. Staring after the departing warrior, the servant began to sweat; he had just come face to face with a warrior from Tahakén and had lived. Sending a swift oath to the sky, he swore to do as the warrior asked, for his threats were valid. A warrior of Tahakén killed without mercy, without remorse, and without effort.

Leaning casually against the alley wall, the cloaked figure watched eagerly as a large woman q'uickly waddled past. Straightening from his slouch, he moved out of the alleyways shadows and followed her discreetly at a distance. He moved through the crowds smoothly, as though they were statues and he was the wind.

He had been watching this woman and others for many moons, debating which would suit his purposes best. He had chosen this one for many reasons. One, she was in debt, owing a considerable amount of gold to the local Rogue. Two, she had access to all parts of the castle should she wish. Three, she was the core of all gossip. If something was happening, she knew about it. Her one great fault the man noticed distastefully was that she didn't know when to keep her mouth shut.

As he moved, the warrior saw faces, and ran names and all known information about them through a special vault in his mind. All of his comrades were, facts could be taken and adapted at the lightest notice. It was one of their main assets, that and killing whoever, wherever.

Today the cook, head cook of the palace, would commence her daily ritual starting at the bakery, where she would purchase three honey scones. Then she would go talk with her sister in the tavern the Back Horse. She would sip tea imported from the Copper Isles before making her way to her brother's house where she would begin a meal for the entire family. It was a deal, the man had found out, which allowed the cook to save money to repay her debt, stay with her brother's family, and cook for them in exchange for a place to stay.

The warrior had to catch her before she entered the house. Quickening his pace, the warrior began to push the crowds out of the way, none to gently.

Ignoring the shouts and looks of displeasure, he kept up his pace, throwing those who wouldn't move out of the way. Walking past the cook, choosing to ignore how she shied away from him but kept going in the same direction, he walked a step before her and then as they rounded a corner, he struck.

Lashing out with a gloved hand, he forced the cook into an alleyway, stifling her scream with his glove. Picking her struggling form up, he opened a door within the shadows and threw her in, closing the door behind him. Quickly walking back to the alleyway entrance and continuing to the inn near the cook's brother's residence where he had booked a room.

He made a lot of noise, an action that disgusted him, as he entered the inn, ordering several rounds of ale for the patrons drinking and ordering himself a meal. For a few hours, he was forced to be the centre of attention, a position he loathed and engaged in small talk with the drunken fools who came over to slur thanks to him.

When the stars began to twinkle in the sky, the warrior bade goodbye and then stumbled up the steps to his room. He kicked the door shut and straightened, wiping the drool from his mouth in repulsion. Locking the door securely and picking a hair from his head, he stuck it to the corner to the door using saliva. Now if anyone entered the room he would know.

Striding over to the window, he un-clasped the catch and opened the window, allowing the crisp air to flood into the room. Perching on the windowsill, he took a deep breath and watched as plumes of mist expelled into the air. Pushing himself off the wooden shelf, he dropped to the ground with a gentle thud, rolling to soften his landing. Standing tall, he walked calmly into the darkness, his vision as sharp as an owl.

Opening the door to the alleyway, he narrowly missed the wooden stool being flung straight at him. Snarling, he folded his arms as the cook threw herself at him, assaulting him with everything she could. Rubbing his teeth, he allowed the blows to land, standing carefree as the blows pummelled his body.

Finally, exhausted, the cook crumpled to the floor and sat sobbing into her hands. "What is it you want?"

In response, the warrior reached into his cloak slowly. The cook cringed in fear and recoiled as he withdrew his hand. Tossing a small pouch, the man suddenly whipped out his blade and sent the sword spiralling towards the sack. The cook was paralyzed in fear and could only watch as the flash of silver erupted before her.

The sharp edge cut through the pouch with ease, sending an avalanche of gold coins spilling onto the dirt floor. Re-sheathing his blade, the warrior nodded to the cook, who could only look in awe and desire at the riches before her.

"You will find the exact amount needed to repay your debt to the local Rogue," he said as he stepped back into the night.

The cook looked after him, and then after deciding he had gone hastily grabbed for the coins. Swiftly, she tucked the gold into her clothes and quickly left the alleyway room. She jumped when the shadows spoke and the figure materialised out of the darkness.

"It is my master's hope that you will do a small favour for him in exchange for your debt clearance."

The cook nodded, wide-eyed. "What do want me to do?"

The warrior's satisfaction was evident in his voice as he replied, "Pass on information. We know you are privy to a lot of rumours. All we request is that you pass that information to us."

The woman nodded, thinking this was an easy deal. She would have to do very little and she received so much in exchange. "How would you like me to give the information on?"

"You will be approached," the warrior informed her, "by a comrade and you will pass the information on to them."

The cook nodded, pleased she would not be required to do all that much. "I can do that."

The man nodded to her as he exited the alleyway. "This is discreet," he said, gesturing to himself and the cook. "No one is to know of our deal. Also," he added as the cook nodded, "you will receive pay once our task is complete. Then you will be expected to forget all of your dealings with us. Otherwise, we will remove you from the equation."

The cook gulped, for once reduced to silence. She understood, if she talked, she would be silenced by any means.

The warrior made sure he was understood before turning into the cobblestoned street and vanishing, smoothly into the fading night.

**Authors Note: **Merry Christmas everyone, I know its late but hey. Who cares.

Review, as always. I need the encouragement, truly I do.

Waterdancer: It should please you to know I now have a Beta Reader! I sent them this chap but since it is Christmas I thought Id give it to you all unedited, I apologise for any mistakes you may and probably will find.

Lynn Smith: No, Raku is all mine.

Maddie Claire: Thankyou! Yeah I know my capters are short, I am working on that. Alanna "might" forgive Jon, or maybe not...Probably not. More murderous thoughts to come in the years ahead... Raku will be playing bigger part, a much bigger part, but not yet. I know, dialogue needs some work. Im still new to writing and am still trying to find a balance so ant ideas would be appreciated.

READ THIS:

Okay, in the next few chapters I will skip back and forwards with a small POV of Alanna(maybe, if she agrees to let me write about her). The next chapters will be... fillers (kind of) to fill in time. Approximately six months or so. But the chapters have information that will make the chapters in say 10 or so time a lot easier to get through and easier to understand. Thanks for reading! Happy holidays.


	10. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

**A stranger comes calling**

Moistening his lips, the warrior looked again to those beneath him. He commanded a battalion of twenty-two men, each huge and rough looking, which was exactly what was required for this mission, though perhaps, the warrior thought in distaste, he could have hired _cleaner_ thugs.

They did not know who he was, where he came from, or even what he looked like. All they knew was that the stranger was rich, and they liked rich people. He had approached the leader, a giant of a man, and told him he was willing to pay in gold for several large men do to a job for him. The leader's eyes had gleamed when shown a small portion of the gold, and he had immediately agreed after the price had been named.

The next morning there was a rugged and dirty group of men wearing mismatched pieces of armor and wielding cheap slices of steel. He had paid them upfront, promising more once the task was completed. Their mission was named, once they were away from the prying eyes of the townsfolk, to take out a caravan of goods.

The stranger told the men he was an agent for an unnamed master and that the caravan they were to hit held his master's younger and beautiful wife. She had run off, he told them, with a younger man and the master was furious. They were to kill the lover and his guards and take the wife back to her furious and rich, the thugs assumed, husband.

Spies had reported that the caravan with the lovers in it was headed for the lord's fief after a very successful week at the annual Rovers Market. Once he and his stolen lover were there, he would be nearly impossible to kill and the wife would be lost to his master forever. That must not, the stranger stressed, happen. He informed the men he had others who would be waiting to take the travelers from the other side, and they would await his signal.

The guards of the caravan were little more than commoners dressed in finer clothes and wielding better weapons. Once the job was complete the thugs could plunder to their hearts' content. It would all be theirs; all the stranger wanted was the woman, alive.

The thugs had each been given instructions and a position to wait for the ambush, a narrow track with imposing pines as skirts. The ambush sight was hidden around the corner, away from view of the farmer that lived near. By the time he heard the battle cries and clash of weapons, it would be too late.

The stranger himself crouched behind a slim ledge of rocks that faced directly onto the muddy road. Hearing the clatter of a wagon and the creaking of leather, the thugs looked down the track. A small convoy of wagons crawled toward them, and the thugs were fantasizing too much of the riches they would receive after to notice the experienced alert way in which the mounted guards moved, nor how their weapons were of the finest quality and polished with excessive use.

The stranger smiled to himself; now was the time. A sharp whistle blasted through his lips and with cries, the thugs sprang from their hiding places and charged toward the wagons.

"Ambush," a soldier yelled as he drew his blade. His comrades quickly followed his actions and swarmed in a protective circle around the middle wagon. A lanky red-robed man pulled back his sleeves and began throwing balls of flame at the thugs.

Ignoring the goods said to be in the other wagons, thinking the greater riches were inside this, the thugs directed their attack to the middle caravan. In a brief moment before he had to defend himself, the thug leader pulled back the door and found himself face to face with a young girl.

Her scream distracted him, and the warriors who heard hastened to her side, screaming at her to run. Standing, the stranger walked smoothly around the dying thugs and followed the woman into the trees.

Several minutes later, the warrior reappeared, his robes flowing and flawless with no burrs for tale of his trek into the forest, the girl obediently following him, her clothes ripped and her shoes missing. Standing atop the same rock he had watched the thugs run to slaughter, he now watched as the warriors all turned their weapons on him.

The band of thugs he had hired to be a distraction were all dead, some from blade wounds or arrows, and others charred from fire. Several of the guards were dead, though many more were injured.

The girl screamed at him to let her go and then began to choke at a silent spell of silence. Seeing no immediate threat to their charge, the leader tried to bargain for her life, the scarlet robe mage subtly beginning an incantation.

"Fools," the stranger hissed. "The bargain has already been made."

Without allowing the soldiers time to digest his words, he struck. A single thought was all it took to pinch the nerves in the back of their necks, and they all fell, slowly toppling forward, dead. The mage who had passed mastery could only throw his full Gift into a defensive spell before he too died. The girl started to sob and shake. Turning, the stranger slung her casually over his shoulder and faded into the forest.

Later, when the searchers returned empty-handed, and the days began to pass, questions would be asked. Why was it that the farmer, who had told the soldiers the direct road to the fief had a tree fallen in its path, vanished to be found dead, and the gold he had accepted for the bribe missing? Why was it later reported that there was in fact no tree that had fallen? Who could kill some of the finest knights in the land _and_a mage from the Carthak University, a master, without a trace? And why would twenty-two thugs attack a caravan only few people knew the whereabouts of with full purses of gold? For those brave or foolish enough to ask questions, they each meet with the Dark God in a terrible accident. After all, so many "accidents" only days after the girl's death could only be a god's hand.

Clutching at the door, Alanna easily balanced the tray on her hip. Pushing the door open, she slid into the room and stopped in shock. The lady lay on a curved bed, one dark-haired female slave offering tidbits of food to her full lips; another blonde slave ran her callused hands over the lady's pale skin. A figure stood silently facing out the window, seemingly unable to look at the scene behind them. Each woman was bare, their clothes in piles on the tiles. The slave offering nibbles to the lady fed her and then slowly drew her fingers down her face, neck, and between the valley of her breasts.

Alanna could only blush furiously at the caress and hastily looked away. Now she understood. The lord and lady didn't have any children, and the lady had only female personal slaves. Sometimes a pretty slave disappeared for a few hours, ignoring the punishment for failing a duty. Now Alanna knew the reasons for the love bruises on their skin, and why they only stayed in the Lady's presence for the least amount of time.

The idea of a woman taking a female lover was foreign to Alanna, something she had only heard of, though she pondered, it was possible. Raku turned to face her as she cautiously moved further into the room, amusement in his eyes. She looked at him briefly before looking away. The lady looked up at her through closed eyes. "Come here, girl," she purred.

Alanna gulped and held the tray in front of her almost hoping it would turn into a shield as she hesitantly took a few steps forward. Setting the tray down on the table next to the dark-haired slave, Alanna risked a glance at her before moving back out of reach. The blonde looked up at her helplessly, never pausing in her massage of the lady's body.

The lady looked Alanna over. She was short, that was true, but so was the lady herself. She was naturally slender, the diminutive rations given to slaves adding little to her body fat. Yet she had muscle, though not as much as she had when she first arrived. Those eyes were a gift, the lady thought, from the gods, for lavender was her favorite color. She had never seen a person with violet eyes and red hair to mention.

"Look at me, child," she commanded of the blushing girl who showed elaborate interest in the marble floor.

The slave girl moistened her lips before tentatively glancing up at the lady. There was fire in this one, the lady realized, and such fire was usually doused by her husband or his right-hand man. "Tell me, girl," the lady said curiously, "have you laid with my husband?"

Alanna blinked and turned an even deeper shade of crimson. She quickly shook her head before looking at the floor. Her head snapped up when she was reminded she had not been instructed to look away.

"Are you sure?" the lady asked, disbelieving.

Alanna nodded again. "Yes, my lady," she answered. "I have not".

The Lady glanced over to Raku who nodded. "Good," she purred. Alanna's eyes snapped to the whip master, since it appeared he had magic also.

After ordering Alanna to hand over her empty tray to the blond-haired girl, the lady got to her feet slowly and seductively. "My husband," she snarled, "thinks I am not aware that he takes many a woman to his bed." A look of barely concealed fury crossed her face. "He thinks I am the perfect wife, always deferring to him, letting him make all the decisions for the land."

A coy smile graced her face, making her seem prettier than she actually was. "He does not know that I know. Nor does he know that I too take woman to my bed." She looked over at Raku from beneath her eyelashes. "Raku does not divulge and my bedmates are unwilling to speak. Also the threat of lashings and death holds their silence."

The lady moved gracefully over to an open door from which running water could be heard. Turning to Alanna, she beckoned. When Alanna hesitated, her eyes narrowed, and she hissed, "Come here now, or I will have Raku lash you until you lose consciousness."

Alanna gulped and looked over to the pity on Raku's face before hurrying forward, following her mistress into the room.

It was the same marble as the floor in the main room, though gold rails led way into a large tub in the middle of the room. It was about the size of Moonlight's box stall. Moonlight. Thinking about her beloved mare brought tears to her eyes, which she hastened to wipe away. She hoped Moonlight was okay, being fed and cared for.

The lady slowly descended into the bath, the bubbles clutching for her skin. Moaning softly at the warmth of the water, the lady ordered Alanna into the bath, saying she would not wash herself.

As Alanna gulped and stepped forward, a cloaked arm crossed her vision. Looking up, she saw Raku shake his head. "No," he mouthed.

The black-haired slave quickly shook her head and gestured for Alanna to remove her clothes. Alanna blanched and wildly shook her head, her face as scarlet as her hair.

"Remove your clothes and get in here now," the lady ordered, turning, her hair bobbing in the water, "or I will have Raku whip you to death!"

Alanna met her gaze for a moment before slowly reaching for her tunic and pulling it over her head. Blushing furiously, for she had never been naked in front of people before, not when they could see _everything_, she reached for her skirt. The slave girl handed her a bar of jasmine soap and swiftly hid in a corner.

Swallowing audibly Alanna clutched the bar of soap tightly in her fist as she took her first step into the warm scented bath water.

Flames reflected off his face as he stared into the coals, their heat slowly burning through his beard. Purple fire responded to the knock on his door and it slowly swung open on well-oiled hinges. The awaiting page swallowed before slowly stepping into the doorway. "M-my lord," he stammered, peering into the dark interior of the lord's rooms, "your p-presence is required at tonight's m-meeting."

The Lord sighed and rose to his feet, startling the page as a shadow appeared in the shadows. "Very well, you may go," the lord instructed before his magic slowly closed the door in the page's face.

Breathing a sigh of relief, the page scampered off to his other chores, thankful for surviving a meeting with the youngest master in history, the twin brother of the recently banished Alan of Trebond, Thom of Trebond.

Cancelling his scrying spell, Thom slowly began to dress himself in his mastery robes. Black and gold adorned his slender and sun-deficient frame, evidence of his great rank. Feeling as though he should at least try and make himself presentable when he met the king, Thom quickly drew his fingers through his hair. Straightening his robes, he opened the door with a flick of his wrist and marched down the hallways, ignoring the looks thrown his way.

Rounding a corner, he approached some guards at the entrance to the king's war chamber. They crossed their weapons as he approached and he felt a spark of annoyance. How dare they bar _him_ entry?

With a snarl, he raised his arm and the guards were thrown back into the wooden door with a crash. As their gleaming weapons chimed on the floor, the door opened slowly to reveal King Roald, Duke Baird, and Duke Gareth looking at him in shock. Roger smirked slyly into his wine glass, though Thom would have sworn he saw an ember of fear within the depths of his eyes.

"They wouldn't get out of my way," he stated in answer to an unspoken question. Ignoring the looks he was thrown, Thom strode over to a bottle of wine and began to poor himself a glass.

The clank of weapons and chainmail announced the arrival of a group of furious guards that made to circle him. Sighing, he put down his wine glass and pivoted to face the blade points directed at him. Speaking to King Roald he said, "If you do not get them to lower their weapons and leave, your maids will have to stain the carpets to rid them of blood." His threat was clear; the guards would leave or they would die.

King Roald glared at him but dismissed the guards, who reluctantly left, with distrusting glances directed at the young, cocky Master. As the door closed, Thom raised an eye-brow and reclaimed his wine glass. "What," he began coldly, "did you 'summon' me here for?"

Duke Gareth frowned, finally sick of the disrespect shown by this youth. "Your Majesty," he snapped.

Thom turned those violet eyes, identical to those of his sister, on him. "No thank you, I am not a royal." He glanced over at Roald. "I wouldn't want to be."

Gareth rose to his feet, and Thom was saved from a stern lecture by the doors slowly opening. Prince Jonathan walked in, Queen Lianne clutched safely in his arms.

The queen was pale and her skin sagged from her bones which seemed to be trying to break away from her body and cut through her skin. Her hair was dull and lifeless with no bounce or shine. The queen, Thom decided after a moment's appraisal, was the walking dead. Only severe efforts from the best healers in the land, who were fighting a losing battle, kept her from the Dark God's clutches.

Prince Jonathan looked little better. His famous sapphire eyes were dull, empty spaces where his life used to shine. Several weeks of stubble hung from his gaunt face, and his hair was disheveled. Looking now at his sister's knightmaster, he felt the familiar stirring of ire within him and relinquished restraint on his composure, directing an enraged look to the prince, disgust mingling on his features. The prince met his eyes once, as he lowered his mother into a chair, before quickly looking away and avoiding all eye contact with him.

"If this is about my sister, I suggest you think very _carefully_ about what it is you are going to say,"Thom hissed softly, his voice clear in the silence.

Roald cleared his throat. "We have decided to keep quiet that a _girl_ made it seven years in knighthood training."

Thom narrowed his eyes and missed the look of repugnance that briefly graced Duke Roger's face.

"The kingdom," Roald continued, "has been told _Alan_ of Trebond has been banished for treason against the Crown."

Jonathan slumped into his chair and looked at the table.

Thom swirled his glass for a moment, contemplating. Placing his glass down, he stepped forward. "My sister is the only person I love," he stated, his voice slowly rising," and _you_have crushed her dream, her life, her soul!"

Thom paused and collected his thoughts, his violet eyes snapping with fury, his Gift straining at his fingers. "You have killed her; she may not be dead in body, but she is in spirit and that life will be replaced with hatred and fury." Thom suddenly smiled coolly. "When she returns, she _will_ be burning for revenge."

Jonathan flinched as Thom spoke and sank even lower into his chair. The adults in the room were too distracted by the young Trebond to instruct him to sit like a prince.

Thom turned to Lianne. "You saved my sister's life, for that I will delay yours."

Straightening, Thom threw his palms out and thrust his Gift into the queen, noting the look of despair on Duke Roger's face with a smile. Purple sparks glowed across her skin, on the inside the violet searched for the dark shadows that were her sickness. The lavender fire fell upon the shadows with flashing teeth and claw. Slowly the sickness was vanquished, and Thom stopped chanting and tiredly drew the remains of his Gift into his body, the shards eager to return to him.

Sighing, he looked to her with droopy eyes. "_Someone_ is trying to kill you. Your sickness isn't natural."

Duke Baird looked over to Thom. His appraisal of the queen complete, he saw that she was well again. "How do you know that?" he asked, nodding to the king, who was looking worriedly at his wife.

"I may not be a healer," Thom slurred, "but I _am_ a mage. I know magic when I see or feel it." Thom slowly straightened, forcing his weary body upright.

"It won't last forever. My Gift burnt away the sickness, but it will come back." He bowed to the queen before making for the door. "I would be very careful as to who you are trusting with your health." With this parting thought and a glance directed at the emotionless face of Roger, he was gone.

**Authors Note:**

**Alianne: Oh okay, I do have *** in between POV change but maybe they don't show up. Ill have a look and fix it. A little bit of George will be soon ;) Thank you. **

** xxxLauraaxxx: Thank you, its nice to hear. **

**A big thank you to Lionesseyes13 for Beta-ing.**

**As always, please review. Im starting to think only a few people are reading... :'(**

**Enjoy, CDL**


	11. Chapter 10

Sighing, the King of Thieves gazed around the room in which resided those of the Lower-class. Grinding his teeth he ignored the loud bustling of the cool night and instead focused on the spy before him. "You are quite sure?" he asked of one of his people. The spy, who was an informant in Tusaine, moistened his lips and nodded.

George dismissed him with a wave of his hand, telling the man to rest before beginning the journey back to the Tusaine underground. He had already arranged for the man to be paid, a lot, for his intelligence. Getting to his feet, the Rogue ran his fingers through his hair distractedly, before swiftly downing his mug of ale.

Nodding to Solom, who was handing out pitchers of ale, he took the reports off his table and ascended the stairs to his room. Once assuring his room was without intruders the Rogue opened his wardrobe and withdrew a black hooded cloak. Smiling wryly, a rare sight these days, he slid his arms into the sleeves and clasped it at the front. Checking his arsenal of knives and daggers were concealed, George strode silently over to his window and opened it to reveal the growing night.

Quickly and swiftly he navigated the alleys and rooftops of his domain before waiting in the shadows for the patrols to pass. Entering through an old and rusted gate, unknown to many and most of the Palace inhabitants, George made his way through the bushes of roses and exotic flowers to come before a balcony with creeping vines climbing beyond it. Rubbing his hands, he glanced around to assure he was alone and hadn't been seen, he stole out of the shadows and clutched for the roots. Hand over hand he climbed using his upper body strength until he could use the balcony to pull himself up.

Landing softly he listened for footfalls and when he heard none he flicked open his picklock kit. The window latch was an ease and within minutes of setting foot inside the palace grounds he was inside, undetected and unseen.

His satisfaction at being amazing was fleeting as he realised what room Gary and Raoul had arranged to meet him in. Alanna's. He felt a burning where his heart was and bought his fist over it, placing an uncomfortable amount of pressure on his chest, the pain nothing compared to what was within. Closing his eyes as he drowned in pain he, with all his alert and highly refined senses, never noticed when Gary trailed Raoul into the room.

Straightening George removed his hood, though kept his arm across his chest. Raoul nodded to him and Gary smiled thinly. Coming back to his senses George look around the room, it was barren of all personal affects and the furniture all had a thin coating of dust. Gary cleared his throat and hesitantly sat on a dust coated chair, Raoul following his lead. George opted to sit casually on a desk, brushing the dust off first.

Reaching into his cloak he bought out a week worth of reports from his contacts in Tusaine and began to speak.

"I asked my people to dis- "He was interrupted by a sharp rap on the door, followed by another two and then three. The secret knock was completed by a final sharp rap before the door opened to reveal Sir Myles of Olau. George relaxed and got to his feet, moving to shake the older Knights hand.

"George Cooper, "he introduced himself politely, remembering his mother's lessons as a child. Myles smiled wearily at him and clasped his arm.

"Myles of Olau, Gary tells me you have news of Alanna?' he asked hopefully in a hushed voice.

George glanced over to the connecting door and rage briefly crossed his features. "Jonathan has moved into another room. As of now, these two rooms are not in use." Gary spoke up, jerking his head towards the Princes ex room.

George nodded and cleared his throat, "As I was saying, Sir Myles, I asked my people to discreetly inquire to the whereabouts of a red haired and purple eyed adolescent."

Myles strode forward and took the offered reports and began to hurriedly scan them. "They found her?" he asked in delight. Gary and Raoul leaned in, in anticipation.

George frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose. "No, reports tell of a lad being dragged off a gold and white mare and taken by a band of slavers."

A look of disgust crawled across George's features, "Other reports state a red haired purpled eyed youth being dragging kicking and fighting into a wagon."

Gary's eyes narrowed, "So where is she now?"

Myles looked up, 'That is where the problem lies, there are no further reports, it's as though she has vanished."

George sighed, "I have asked around and as of yet I do not know where Alanna is, though I am still looking."

Myles handed George back his reports with a nod, "You'll send word as soon as you hear anything?"

George nodded as he tucked the parchment into his cloak, "As soon as I know, you know."

"Are you holding up okay?" It was Raoul, the first words he had spoken, "I know you were good friends."

George looked at Raoul, then Gary and finally at Myles, "As well as you all are holding up, maybe better because I knew the truth and because I am doing something to find my friend."

Raoul inclined his head in confirmation and rose to his feet. "Thanks George," he said as he slowly left the room, shoulders slumped. Gary looked around the room for a moment before he too left, "It seems so...empty... without her."

George pulled over his hood and looked at Myles who slumped into a chair with a sigh. "Go, King of Thieves, you have your people to get back to." He smiled wryly and his gaze followed George as he slunk out of the window and into the night.

Queen Lianne sat poised on her throne, watching as the girls from the convent were twirled around the ballroom floor by nobles' sons. Her attention was mostly focused on her becomingly infamous son. He was thoughtlessly dancing with the Eldorne girl, Delia or something. Something liken to a frown passed briefly across the Queens face before years of etiquette schooling erased it from her features.

Her son wore a jet black suit and a lavender tie, a minor rebellion to his father and his hair was carefully brushed and his beard neatly trimmed. All in all he was the perfect model of a Prince, until he spoke or looked you in the eyes. Lianne sighed quietly and King Roald glanced over at her worriedly, he was still unsure of her health. She took his hand and smiled reassuringly at him and was rewarded with a beaming grin, a sight she hadn't seen for a long time. The band started up a slower song and a playful look came into the Queens eyes, Roald couldn't stop looking at her and when she gestured to the dance floor his smile stretched even wider.

He rose to his feet and offered her his arm. Appraising him she placed her wine glass on the table and fluidly got to her feet, accepting his arm gracefully. The nobles watched in wonder as the King and Queen descended from the dais and joined the other couples on the dance floor. Smiling happily they joined their monarchs, pleased the Queen was finally looking better and the King was looking healthier and happier.

As Lianne was swirled around the floor in her loves arms she caught occasional glimpses of her son, Jonathan. He met her gaze one time and a small smile, though it never sparked in his eyes. Then he was gone, excusing himself and claiming to be unwell. Due to her recent and lasting illness Queen Lianne begged repast and retired. Her husband was finally happy, now, to make her son happy. After Braid had assured himself and Roald that Lianne was well, just tired, she left in pursuit of her son. Asking a servant she discovered Jonathan had taken a few bottles of the strongest wine and had once again, locked himself in a storage room.

Lianne's brows puckered and she felt an unfamiliar stirring of outrage, outrage that her son dare disrespect himself, his father and her. Arriving at the storage room the servant had said the Prince retreated to, too think, she opened the door softly, concealing her presence. Entering softly, her silk slippers making a soft thump on the wood, she saw her son sitting in the corner on an old wooden chair, big enough for two. His shoulders were slumped forward and he held an empty bottle in one hand and his head in another, sobs racked his body. He never even moved when she walked over and sat softly next to him, "Jon?" she whispered as he cried. Her breath caught when he turned and looked at her, his eyes were dead. Cold and lifeless, barren and without compassion.

The rumours were true, her son may be alive in body, if not for very long with the way he was treating himself, but that was as far as life spread. He had well and truly died.

Sighing Lianne slung an arm around her sons' broad shoulders and flinched when she felt how skinny he was. Jonathan turned quickly and buried his head into her body, his breath, and tears, slowly staining her dress. The Princes sobs grew louder as the night progressed and Lianne held her son as she had once before when he was young and was afraid of the dark. Eventually he fell into a restless and dream filled slumber.

The queen made sure Jonathan was sleeping before slipping silently out of the storage room in search of Duke Gareth. She found him talking to his son and waited patiently until Gary had left before walking slowly up to the Duke. He bowed when he saw her, a smile on his face. He kissed her offered hand and politely inquired as to why she was out and about at this hour.

Lianne smiled and then grew serious, "Jonathan, I need your help." She answered softly. The Duke straightened and nodded.

"Where is he?"

The Queen sighed, "The Storeroom off the west wing."

A frown crossed the Dukes face before he led the Queen past Gray's room and to the west wing. Knocking sharply on Gary's door, Duke Gareth waited until his son opened the door. "I need you to help with Jonathan." He said swiftly as Gary bowed to the Queen, who inclined her head in response. Gary nodded and bent inside the door to get his boots and feet shod, followed behind his father as Queen Lianne led to his cousin.

Jonathan had fallen off the chair and was thrashing onto the floor, crying and pleading for forgiveness as they hovered in the doorway. Duke Gareth clenched his jaw before motioning Gary in after him. Moving to each side of the distraught prince they gripped him under the arm, his dramatic loss of weight evident as they lifted him easily to his feet. His legs were limp and his feet dragged across the floor as Gary and his father, muscles straining, carried the drunken prince to his new rooms, Queen Lianne following behind them.

The few servants they encountered watched with wide unblinking owl's eyes as they small group ghosted past. Queen Lianne skirted around Duke Gareth and opened her sons' room, lighting the various lamps and moving to close the violet curtains.

Duke Gareth and his son dragged the heir over to his bed and none to gently threw him onto it. Gary sighed and began to remove his cousin's boots. "Alanna." That single word cut through the silence. The Duke looked over to the Princes sleeping face and Gary's head snapped up. Lianne turned slowly, she already knew. "Alanna", Jonathan whined again, "I'm sorry, please?" The rest of his speech was lost and movement commenced, with the Duke removing Jonathans' coat and tie, by now thoroughly stained with the fumes of alcohol. "Alanna, wait!" the Prince cried before moaning pitifully, "I love you," he confessed.

Lianne sighed, her eyes the heaviest they had been since her illness, and looked at her sons face as he began to weep, sad drunken tears. Gary looked at Jonathan blankly as understanding dawned on is features. He now understood why Jonathan showed little or no interest in the ladies of court and suddenly felt pity for his cousin; he believed he had sent his love to her death. Gary sighed, his heart laden, due to a promise made the King of Thieves, Gary was unable to tell Jonathan about the on- going search for Alanna, or that she was, as far as he knew, alive.

Duke Gareth looked at Lianne in shock before glancing at the thrashing and distressed Prince in astonishment. And like his son, pity etched itself across his features and shadows remained in the days that he saw Jonathan softly crying to himself in a secluded corner of the Royal Garden.

Gesturing to Lord Gareth, Lianne kissed her son lightly on the forehead and then elegantly exited his room, Gareth following closely behind.

"Something needs to be done", The Queen whispered softly, her voice caging her tears.

Gareth nodded, "But what? He asked, "We don't even know if the girl is still alive let alone where she is."

An anguished scream, slightly muffled, wove its way out of Jonathan's room and Lianne quickly re-entered and flowed over to her son. Gary was leaning over the Prince, talking hurriedly to him as he clasped his shoulders to keep him still. Jonathans face was buried into his pillows, the reason his scream was muffled. Lianne stroked Jonathan's hair and whispered to him comfortingly.

Eventually his screams subsided into moans of pain and then the Prince fell into a coma deep sleep, exhaustion overcoming him.

Duke Gareth looked at his sleeping nephew and nodded to Queen Lianne. Yes, something needed to be done, Jonathan was useless like this.

As soon as dawn arose, a messenger charged out of the gates, their cloak snapping in the wind, making for the Barony of Olau.

Looking around her, the cook slowly crept out of the shadows and over to the fountain. Taking a small piece of parchment from beneath her skirts she gazed it at for a moment before looking about her once again, trying to assure herself there was no one about at this hour of the early morning, even though she felt eyes on her. Returning her gaze back to the fountain she blinked, sure it had changed.

A fierce dragon reared up from the side of the fountain. Its wings were rampant, battering fierce winds towards its opponent, who mirrored its posture, locked in mortal combat. Their claws dug into each other and their mouths were open in an endless roar of defiance. From these mouths came water, as though fire, meeting with a splash before binding together and falling into the bottom of the fountain.

Gulping the cook followed her instructions and held the scroll directly beneath the clashing water spouts. Cool water ran over the paper and down her arm, causing goose bumps to grace her skin. The water sank into the parchment and slowly the ink began to run down with the water. The ink wasn't actually ink; it was blood, taken from a chicken shortly before it was cooked.

Slowly the water running from the dragons flame turned to red and the water pooling in the fountain mirrored it. The cook shuddered, and not because of the cold. Quickly she withdrew her hand, after the water had stopped running crimson, and began to hurriedly return home, the hair on the back of her neck standing stark as she felt eyes drilling into her.

The messenger stayed still in the shadows as she brushed past him, never even noticing he was there. Straightening he slunk over to the fountain and lowered a finger into the water, removing his glove beforehand. Ripples rolled away from his skin along the sides of the concrete fountain, meeting at equal opposite ends before small waves rolled into the middle. As the waves met where the water from the dragons mouths fell, movement ceased. The dragons slowly retracted their claws from each other and sank back to their haunches their wings spread to maintain their balance.

The water swirled and slowly turned the same deep crimson as it had previously then the blood began to thicken into symbols.

ᶙ₰ᶘᶘ ᶖӜ Ӝ ᶖӜϗᶗ ӁζӜϗᶗ . ₰ᶘᶘ ӜζᶙᶘҨᵹ ϗζ ₰ϗϗҨӜɮ.

Smiling the messenger took note before another tap to the blood water and then he strode away. Under the moonlight, the blood withdrew up the fountain and into the dragon's mouths, leaving the water crystal clear. If anyone noticed, in the days to come, how the dragon's eyes turned into rubies, then so be it, they could not trace him, he was leaving this town.

Waiting until he was well hidden from any prying eyes, the messenger made his way to the rooftops, carrying a small bag with his belongings over his shoulder. Standing on the beam on top of the Temple to Mithros he spat in contempt, he bowed to no god. Securing his belongings he raised his arms and called his magic to his fingers. Green magic slowly uncoiled from within and stretched out over every inch of his skin. Smiling like a maniac the Messenger took a step forward, off the edge of the Temple and fell.

Power flooded through his veins as wind lashed at his falling form. Bringing an image to mind, the Messenger bade his body to take that form. Soft sooty black feathers began to spring from his flesh and his face began to morph into a sharp coal beak and cold un blinking eyes, like shark eyes framed by smooth shinny feathers. He remained the same size as he was as a human, arrogant enough to not care if he was seen. The Messenger flapped his wings effortlessly, magically manipulating the air with his mind to cause an updraft.

Banking he made for the sea, gliding swiftly over the houses and eventually over the sandy shore. A strong gale blew behind him and shot him across the ocean. Meeting the boundary where all the seas and oceans met he climbed into the stars before hovering above the angry waves. The portal to another realm was in the middle of every single sea, a barren area, a place where even those who worshiped the darkness feared to venture. Leagues and leagues separated the Portal from land, ships avoided this spot as it was known for its sharp rocks and the tidal pull that caused ships to be sucked into a whirlpool and disappear.

Green magic glowed on his feathers before shooting down into the clashing water. The green waves slowly spread and began to push the water back, and then he plummeted, wings clasped to his side, into the forming whirlpool. Releasing his magic he created a bubble of air around his head and waited. It didn't take long, with a roar the waters collided and the messenger/bird was sucked down deeper into the ocean.

Flapping his wings he momentarily changed into dolphin form before shooting up and leaping out of the water. As soon as he broke the water he changed back into bird form and rose into the dawn. Very few people, outside of Tahakén, knew of the portal and even fewer knew how to open and cross if safely.

Tahakén itself was even more forbidding than the waters that surrounded it. The fortress was made of the blackest marble perched upon sharp precipices with jagged rocks at its base. The walls were smooth and glassy, and black cloaked warriors marched tirelessly across ramparts. Towers stretched deep into a sinister clouds and lightening outlined great winged beasts as they glided in and out of the storm without rain.

Cawing indigently as lightning flashed right next to him, singeing his feathers, the messenger glided into decent. Landing softly his black feathers morphed back into skin and his wings and legs back to his limbs. Black tendrils of fabric climbed over his skin and his clothes formed back to how they were. His boots rang over the marble as he strode into the keep, his bag slung over his shoulder.

Slaves, bald and beaten in their shame bowed low as he passed accept on who looked about him curiously before quickly dropping to his knees. It wasn't fast enough, with a snarl the messenger kicked the slave in the face, reeling in his own power as the slave fell back with a cry. The messenger leaned down and spoke in an icy whisper, 'Your obviously new, let me offer you some advice." The slave cowered away and held his hands to his bleeding face, the messengers boots were designed to break and to cut.

"You are nothing, you are nobody, you are worthless," the messenger hissed, "You bow to me always, I am your God, I am your Master, I am your owner. "

The slave gulped and quickly nodded, looking at the floor in submission. "You obey me _without _question" the messenger emphasised before kicking the slave in the face once more and continuing on his path, slaves cringed even more deeply than before.

He felt a sense of satisfaction, here he was King. His "brother" had been demoted and now only he and one other was of the rank Battle Prince, the highest rank of Tahakén slaves. A personal pet of The Master.

Stopping briefly at his rooms, the Prince refreshed himself and changed his clothes, using magic of course. The Master despised it when his slaves were unclean, unless he made them unclean, naturally.

Reappraising himself in the mirror he made his way to the Masters personal quarters. Two of The Masters personal guards, not needed of course, just an accessory to his position, tensed as he approached but bared the door.

Death Walkers were difficult to describe, coming in many different forms but the main form, the form of this pair was a horrible mix of black magic and deadly creatures of various worlds, only someone with a cruel and evil mind could create such a being.

Dark shadows wound together with coal feathers for their front legs and big sharp spikes gleaming with deadly intent scattered across back legs. Clawed feet, similar to human hands stomped the marble with a ring and a puff of black smoke rippled in waves across the floor. A long scaled tail, similar to the tail of a dragon curled casually over a long horse like back and curved pincer blade smouldered in black magic at the end of the tail.

The lean powerful body stretched up and the mists wavered randomly switching between innards and flaky, almost burnt skin. Two long spines erupted violently out of elbows before contracting as the Walkers regained their control, the flesh slowly moulding back over the hole, but leaving room for the barbs to burst through again. Silky black fur covered the arms and ran up to the head where small horns jutted out of crown to neck. A sooty black beak protrudes above a cartilage beard and two long dripping fangs stick out from the beak itself. In each opposite hand they held a vicious looking mace and in the other a gleaming execution axe, held like toys in their powerful hands, these were what bared entry to The Masters chambers.

Hate radiates out of ember eyes that slowly set alight as he strode loser, and grotesque faces turned into a gruesome snarls as he stopped before them. The one on the right growled at him, a fearsome sound that sent goose bumps across his skin and he feared none but the Master, and stepped forward. A sharp bark came from the one on the left and the other slunk back, but still retained its growling.

"Vhatssssss dooo yousss vantssssss?" The dominant one hissed, its voice sounded like the whispers of death and the woeful wails of those condemned in death itself.

Gritting his teeth the Prince snapped, "I wish to talk with The Master," he had more to add though stayed his tongue, though he was confident in his own power few except The Master were aware of the power of the Death Walkers and he didn't want to risk The Master hearing his information any later then he now was.

A strange rumbling came from the throat of the weaker Death Walker before it paused, black magic misting around it like a fog as it and its companion stepped to the side and raised the axe. Feeling slightly apprehensive as he walked under the gleaming blades the Prince walked into his Masters private quarters, the ancient doors swinging open softly on well oiled hinges.

Swallowing he strode quickly into the shadows, flinching when the doors closed with a rattle. Black flames flickering hungrily in a hearth of obsidian were the only source of light in the room, apart from the various life source gems in a giant vase of crystal and gold. Jewels of icy blue, the like seen in the south of Tahakén, deep within the glaciers. Life Source gems are unique stones, created from Life itself, the Life of the creator moulded into small jewels that glowed whenever the creator was in the room.

Each lifetime was in a single stone and if someone were to obtain every stone of a person's lifetime, they could be controlled without effort, through the jewels. The Master displayed his arrogance and his power by leaving them in plain sight; anyone could just dip their hand in and take some... ultimate power. It was a seductive thought, to control The Master would mean you _were_ The Master; the worlds would be yours...

Arrogant though he may be, The Master was no fool. The gems on show were only a few centuries of life each, never enough to guaranty control of one such as he and he was sure to have impenetrable defences guarding the vase. Also he would have hidden the more powerful gems somewhere guarded by a terrible beast and surrounded by black magic.

The Master himself lounged in a great scaled chair, the hide of one of the many dragons he had slain. Swallowing the Prince knelt on one knee in submission, his head bent. A snarl from The Master sent him to his knees and he placed his forehead on the cool floor in fear.

"It seems, Slave," The Master remarked casually, "that you no longer respect me as you used to." Gulping the Prince pressed himself even further into the floor.

"Attacking _my_ slaves and considering controlling _me!_" He paused for a moment and his voice became cold, "I thought that you would have learnt that lesson before, your former _brother_, "he spat with disgust, "has learnt that lesson."

The Battle Prince remained silent throughout, keeping his thoughts carefully neutral and in submission. Hearing the mention of his comrade, he snarled though made no comment.

The Master caught this, as he did with everything, and look at him cruelly, "Perhaps the wrong Prince was demoted?"

His heart lurched and he yelled into the floor, "No! No Master, I am more worthy of your hand, not he!"

His fellow former Prince had been demoted in spectacular fashion, his rank striped from him, his assets broken or split among those who wanted to further themselves and he had been tortured, personally, by The Master for days without respite. As a Prince he was capable of sustaining immense amounts of pain but his screams had rung through the castle as his blood stained the cell walls.

The Master rose fluidly to his feet and drifted over to his slave, "You fear his fate?" he asked almost kindly. The Slave nodded into the marble, "Yes Master."

A look of fury crossed The Masters face, "What did you do?" he bellowed hauling the petrified slave to his feet.

"N-n- nothing Master!" He squealed, "I obeyed your every wish precisely how you ordered." The fire left The Masters eyes and with a grunt he dropped the shaken Prince.

Returning to his chair he snapped his fingers and pointed to a diamond jug. The Slave quickly leapt to his feet and ran to the table holding the drink and poured the liquid into a small frosted glass. The drink was like liquefied diamond and dipped smoothly out of the pitcher.

He swiftly gave the glass to his Master and bowed deeply as he backed away. "You have news?"

The Slave Prince bowed again, "Yes Master. A ball is to be held on the new moon of the ninth moon cycle, all nobles are "invited" and all feel "obliged" to attend."

A small smile crossed The Masters face, "That is good. All is going to plan."

Taking a small delicate sip The Masters voice lowered to a hiss, "I am displeased with you, Slave."

The Slave Prince blinked and began to perspire in fear, gulping he quickly fell to the floor in submission. "Master?" he dared to ask.

"Yes, you see I gave you strict instructions," the Slave hurriedly scanned the vault in his mind, swiftly finding his memorised instructions.

_Travel to the city of..._

_Talk to scribe..._

_Find informants..._

_Relay all information on..._

_Above all remain anonymous! _

Remain anonymous, the Slave swore silently.

"Yes," The Master snarled, "That particular _order_ remains un- obeyed, why is that?"

The Slave said nothing but cowered into the floor.

"You deliberately disobeyed me!" The Master roared launching himself to his feet in fury. "I will _not_ tolerate disobedience! You_ will_ be punished!" The walls shook with the force of his anger and the earth began to rumble. In the towers ruling arrogant in the sky slaves glanced to the windows in terror as minute missiles of water began to pummel the windows and forks of lightening lashed through the black clouds accompanied by great crashes of thunder. On the ramparts guards cried in terror as waves as black as death reared up against the stones and dragged people onto the rocks. The Master was in a rage that much was clear.

"No Master!" the Slave pleaded, "Please forgive me."

The Master waited while the Slave implored, begged and beseeched him, revelled in this feeling of ultimate power. Eventually the Slaves cries fell on deaf ears as The Masters attention began to wonder, he wondered briefly how his demoted Prince was doing before thinking on how best to negotiate the upcoming deal with the King of...

Suddenly he returned his attention to the blubbering Prince, irked that his incessant crying had interrupted his thoughts. "Go now;" he ordered absently, "you are to position yourself in the Palace to await the arrival of the assassin. And once he has completed his task you are to kill him."

The Slave halted in mid apology and a cruel gleam came into his bloodshot eyes. Finally, his brother was to die! And he would be the one to do it!

Bowing deeply, the Slave Prince scurried out of the room, hoping The Master had forgotten about his punishment.

He stopped by his rooms to replace his soiled clothes from his bag and to quickly consume a meal laid on his table. Exiting the building he stood in the courtyard, rain pouring down around him, skirting over the shield he placed over himself. Using magic he propelled himself o the tallest tower, a tower standing dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

Smiling harshly he slung his bag over his shoulders and launched himself into the sky, inky feathers shimmering across his skin as he once again took raven form. Angling for the portal he flew towards a battle that could be his last.

**Authors Note: Sorry its been so long. With end of term I just avent had the time and dont get me started about this weekend. Hopefully in the holidays Ill be able to write more :D**

**As always, read and review. It heartening to see that people are actually reading this :D**

**P.S. This hasnt been Beta Read so it will have mistakes. My badness :D**

**Regards, Con Dar Lioness**


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

Sighing Alanna counted the beams of the room for what seemed like the thousandth time. Clasping her hand she looked over to her Lady Master before hurriedly averting her eyes from the Lady's now bare form. Fabrics of all shades and colours lined the many shelves and racks of the small private room and cutting tools and pins were strewn in an unorthodox fashion across benches and tables.

The seamstress was holding measuring string and was barking measurements to a flustered assistant who quickly noted the numbers on a piece of parchment. Turning she exited the room, ignoring the Lady's look of annoyance. The front of the shop was vacant, the sign on the door proclaiming its close.

Slowly wandering over to the door she hesitantly reached out to open it, the freshly flayed skin on her back screaming in protest. Raku had been ordered to lash her again, in hindsight she shouldn't have taken two of the strawberry tarts, but after months of dry bread and water she simply couldn't resist. She had taken her time consuming it and savouring the sweet flavour, before seeking Anya and secretly offering her the other. The look of delight on the girls face as she ate it made it all worth it, even the aftermath.

A servant had seen Anya's fingers before she cleaned them off and when the Lord raged that two of his strawberry tarts had been taken the slave stepped forward in an attempt to gain his favour. Anya, who was terrified of Raku, had quickly admitted to eating one. She was to be lashed as her punishment. Alanna wouldn't stand for that so she told the Lord that it was she who had stolen the tarts and had given one to Anya.

Raku was waiting patiently outside with the carriage, the horses eating noisily from nosebags. The slaves that had accompanied them were sitting on the ground in the fierce sunlight and the guards were lounging in the shade of an inn, drinking ale.

Raku was ...unique... Alanna had come to this conclusion after weeks of silent and not so silent observation, and gossip. The rumours in the castle ranged from a once free-man turned slave as punishment for being a Princess's lover; to his being drowned at birth by a mother who didn't want him as he was unable to speak. Also there was that strange scar around his neck. Either way, the Lord had paid quite well to the unique seller for a completely obedient slave that was unable to speak, could read and write and could torture. He was, as Alanna had observed, very unique.

Alanna had followed him, whenever her duties would permit, pleading with him to teach her how to fight like he does. As of yet he had refused, though Alanna hadn't given up. She would just shadow him silently, watching what he did and storing her observations in her mind. After the Anya accident, an error of Anya had resulted in her being scheduled for a whipping to which Alanna took the punishment instead; he had sometimes pointed out, in his soft voice certain things. One day, when he had come across her practicing her punches and kicks on a hay bale in the barn.

She had frozen when she had finally seen him, for she was not supposed to be in the barn, and had waited for his judgement. He had looked at her strangely before picking up a bale as though it weighed nothing and carrying it over his shoulder down the steps and out into the stable. Alanna had treaded very carefully flinching when she heard the sound of boots, waiting to be summoned to the Lords chamber for disobedience.

When it never came she had hesitantly returned to the barn, becoming more cunning in her entering and exiting the barn and never keeping to the same schedule. One the first night she returned, it was raining, hard. Litres and litres were weeping from the coal skies and no one was about. She climbed the beams at the back of the barn using her hands and feet before slipping in through the open window and falling onto the floorboards with a thump.

Assuring herself she hadn't been heard over the rain she had allowed herself a small smile before using her gift to light the room in a small ball of fire and climbing through the hay in search of her bale. When he had spoken she jumped out of her skin and quickly spun to face him. He was standing casually in the corner with her practice bale leaning against the wall beside him; small droplets of water dribbled off his cloak and stained the floorboards, testament that he too had been in the rain.

"What do you want?" she snapped, annoyed she had been caught and hadn't even noticed him.

Straightening he slunk forward and took of his cloak, depositing his tunic in the corner with it. His torso seemed to be chiselled out of stone, so perfect was its definition and his muscles flexed as he walked, making Alanna jealous with envy. She paused in shock when she looked closer, ignoring the finely shaped chest and toned stomach in favour of the silver cobwebs across his skin. Scars, she realised as she looked even closer, he was covered in scars ranging in length, width and depth.

"Everyone is scarred child, some more than others." Alanna looked into his eyes and gulped, wondering again what exactly he wanted. He ghosted forward to stand in front of her and then his eyes moved across her body as he circled her slowly appraising.

The night had progressed with Raku having Alanna move her body in strange positions, her muscles protested as she had to hold her body weight on the various pressure points of body. It was called the Dance of the Snake and it created, when Mastery was achieved, perfect balance, strength and flexibility.

Alanna was panting and exhausted by the time they completed and turned envious eyes on Raku who was sitting casually on a hay bale watching her, the body positions he had shown her causing him no contest at all.

Alanna was jolted back from her memories by him speaking to her. He had mastered the art of speaking without moving his mouth and only Alanna knew that he actually could speak, that he had a voice. "How is your back today?"

Alanna had taken his habit of speaking as little as possible and only when required, preferring to listen. "Its better,' she answered softly, fearing her voice would carry as she looked at the ground.

Raku grunted in reply and sat next to her with his back to the carriage. "Any ideas?" he asked inclining his head in the direction of the dressmaker.

Alanna followed his gaze, "There is an upcoming ball to celebrate the birth of an heir, and all the nobles are attending."

Suddenly Raku stiffened before relaxing, almost as though it had never happened, but Alanna noticed. She noticed everything Raku did, in an almost obsessive way.

"When is the ball?" He asked absently.

"Three months, "Alanna answered, with holding her curiosity.

"Are you to accompany the Lady? Raku asked softly, "I have noticed of late that she enjoys your presence."

Alanna turned a deep crimson and quickly hid her face behind curtains of flaming hair that now reached below her shoulders. Clearing her throat she answered, "Yes, you are also. I think the Lord wishes to show you off, similar to that of a prize stallion."

Laughter rumbled deep within Raku's chest before bursting out, a clear and vibrant sound. All animals within hearing distance fell into silence in awe, the humans were likewise affected, and an icy silence fell over the road. The soldiers made the sign against evil on their chests and eyed Raku wearily.

Raku cleared his throat, "I deserved that," he said looking to Alanna. Then suddenly a smile dawned on his face making him look even more god-like, "That is the first I have laughed in a long time, I thank you."

Alanna couldn't help but smile at his radiance and nodded. Then her smile quickly turned to horror as she saw how his clothes had parted at the base of his neck to reveal a thick band of silver. Raku caught her look and swiftly tugged his collar, though not before Alanna had a good look.

Runes and letters in a strange language swirled across Raku's neck, scared into his skin. Each shape seemed to draw Alanna in and she could feel the power radiating off, a wave of nausea flooded her before he shielded his brand from view.

She swallowed her sickness, fighting a pounding head and feeling within the presence of powers she couldn't understand. Blinking she tried to focus and found her vision in a haze of crimson before a hand, glowing emerald, entered her sight. Raku's hand touched her temples and her vision sharpened greatly before fading back to how it was normally and the stampeding in her skull retreated to a dull buzzing before vanishing all together.

"What-," Alanna cleared her throat, "What was that?

Raku sighed and slyly moved further away from her, "My mark of enslavement." He answered dejectedly. "My obedience is assured through the use of this collar, burned into my skin using... unpleasant...methods."

Alanna gulped, beginning to fear the look in his eyes as his voice darkened.

"If I disobey I am...hurt," Raku took a deep breath, "never the same way twice and the pain never fails to bring me to my knees. I learnt very quickly to obey my Master and to please Him continuously. I live in fear always of the pain."

Alanna fell silent thinking, _this is the most I have ever heard him speak. I wonder what could make him afraid._

She was about to ask him who had done this to him when the door to the dressmaker open. The Lady stood momentarily in the sunshine waiting for her eyes to adjust before setting forward breezily for the carriage.

Suddenly as Alanna watched her silk slippers caught on a raised cobblestone and with a squeal she was launched forward, her skirts flying, hair freeing itself from her neat bun and her hand hastening to try to stop her fall. With a thus she crashed to the cobblestones and moments later a wail echoed up and down the road. The guards quickly rushed forward, their armour clanking in their rush to get to her. Turning a deep red The Lady graciously accepted a hand to assist her up and opened her mouth to launch a torrent of abuse at the guard when the Dressmaker rushed out of her shop.

"Lady, are you well? She asked hurriedly.

The Lady tossed her head before nodding politely and accepting the guards help to the carriage. "I am fine, she answered, "just slightly unsettled. "

Alanna blinked as Raku touched her shoulder, leaning down he whispered in her ear, "I was thinking she screams like a cat suddenly thrown into a torrent of ice cold water."

Grinning Raku walked away, glancing back to her with a smile and something dangerous and forbidding within the depths of his eyes slowly beginning to fade. Alanna smothered her laugh as she copied his movements and mounted the roan given to her. He stood smaller than Moonlight though slightly larger than Chubby. Thinking of Moonlight made her heart pang and she hoped her faithful mare was okay, not dead and was being treated well by whoever had her. She hoped she was back at the Palace, or even with George.

Memories of home swelled through her and she barely noticed it when the group trotted out, the Roan following the other horses. Faithful, sniffing she wiped a tear from her eye, and hoped he had gotten away alive and was well.

Ahead the skies rumbled and rain slowly began to fall, Raku's hands tightened on the reins of his gelding and caught up with them. He raised an inquisitive eyebrow and she reluctantly answered, seemingly against her will, she had been doing that a lot with him she realised. "Just thinking about home."

Raku nodded, "I too think of my birthplace often. Home, "he stated, "is where you choose to live, and for now you must choose to live here."

Alanna nodded and brushed away another tear as the rain fell harder.

"La'vanka sëanga averax,". Alanna's skin crawled at the power of those words. "Allow not your spirit to break." Raku leaned over to touch her forehead, a green spark jumped from his outstretched finger and leap onto her skin. Immediately her heart ache lessoned and her breathing relaxed.

"You have the gift?" Alanna's voice rose to squeak at the end and she halted abruptly.

Raku smiled, "There are many secrets I poses, child, some you wouldn't even dream of." Wheeling his horse he nodded to her and cantered to catch up. Alanna waited peering into the rain after him. Yes, Raku was a man of many secrets, and Goddess be dammed if he didn't teach her some of them. Kicking the roan into a gallop she rushed to catch up, she didn't want any lashing to hinder her learning.

Slipping silently into the courtyard the Prince made his way through the gardens heading for the sleeping quarters of the King and Queen. Spelling himself invisible he nimbly climbed a balcony and with a thought unlocked the door and slide into the room. His gift told him of the two people wrapped in an embrace and he exited the room as silently as he had entered, leaving no trace.

Walking boldly down the hallways he avoided the slaves and guards that were moving around this early into the dawn and scanned their minds subtly for the information he required. He didn't really need to know where the King and Queens chambers were, he had already memorised the entire castle layout and knew every intimate detail about everyone and everything inside its grounds, even the ones who didn't want to be found.

Still, it always paid to be cautious, you never knew, the King and Queen might have moved to a safer place, one where he didn't expect them to be. But alas, they remained in the same rooms.

Arriving at the private quarters of the Monarchs he considered his options and decided on a shape shift, a fly. Yes, a fly. To think one such as he would lower himself to shift to the form of a fly was folly, though it suited his purposes. He should be a lion or maybe an eagle, a creature of power and nobility.

Shifting smoothly he navigated the posted guards and zipped up under the door and into the chambers of the Royal family. Resuming his natural shape, the Prince removed his spell and reached into his pouch to produce a single white rose. His booted feet made no sound on the lush animal skins that covered the marble tiles as he moved to the Queens side of the bed.

Looking down at her he uttered a single word of power. The Queens body arched up as her eyes flew open, her mouth open in a silent scream. The sheets fell off her form to reveal a large body with stretch marks all over her belly. In another room, as if sensing his others peril a babe awakened and began to cry. An elderly slave woman rushed over to try and hush him and when she failed she gently forced syrup down his throat. And as his mother took her last breath he fell into a deep slumber.

Smoothing the Queens features with magic the Prince withdrew a small silver throwing knife from its pouch and nicked her throat. Blood began to pool out of her neck and onto the sheets, quickly turning them crimson.

Placing the rose between the now widowed King and his deceased wife the messenger withdrew another identical rose and dipped it into the cooling blood of the Queen. Turning the Prince made his way to the newborn, opting to walk through the walls rather than shift again.

The elderly slave woman had fallen asleep in her chair and was snoring loudly; she would not survive the new moon. It wasn't his problem. Wandering over to the sleeping babe the Prince examined the rose before tossing it next to the baby, the blood staining the virgin sheets immediately. A smile was a rare thing of a Tahakén Prince and it often bode ill for all involved. The messenger called to his gift and vanished in a burst of black smoke that slunk out of the open crevices in the room and into the night.

Come morning the King would awake to find his bed soiled with blood, a dead wife and two identical perfect roses stained with his loves blood. A blood oath had been made; the ruling line would soon be slain.

**Authors Note: Hey guys, sorry for the mistakes. Im going away toway and wont be back for a laptop and no internet so I thought Id leave everyone with a gift. **

**Alann will feature A LOT more in the chapters to come, the other POVs were critical to get to this stage, sorry.**

**As always Read and Review. **

**Cheers, CDL**


	13. Happy Birthday Moi!

**A Tahakén Prince**

Alanna glanced over to Raku in amusement and stifled a laugh. The Lord was attempting to gain prestige by riding with his men into the capital. As of yet the reputation he wished to gain was far away. His mount, a well tempered and placid creature was throwing its weight across the road in an attempt to keep his rider, who was seated like a sack of potatoes. The guards couldn't keep the amusement off their faces, at least the ones that could actually ride; they noticed and threw pitying glances to the horse.

Raku looked at her and nodded, his hair tousling in the soft wind, the mane of his bay jerking as she begged for her head. Raku patted her neck with a gloved and she stilled though snorted in annoyance. Leaning forward he whispered into her ear and she immediately quietened though picked up her steps, almost trotting sideways down the road.

Alanna looked at her, eyebrows raised, "What did you tell her?" she asked Raku.

His teeth flashed white in the sun, "That I would give her her head on the next straight. There is a flat that runs steadily for about a mile. I will run her then, regardless of the consequences."

Alanna nodded and looked down at her own horse. "May I join you?" Raku tilted his head and then nodded.

"How goes your Dance of the Snake?"

Alanna allowed herself a smile, "Good, the exercises you gave me five nights ago no longer cause me trouble."

Raku's eyes gazed into hers and something began to burn in them, "You are growing stronger and more agile, soon you will progress to the next level," he said as he quickly looked away.

Alanna grinned even wider, Raku she had learned very rarely praised and to hear it made all the sweat and tears as she forced her body into positions she wasn't accustomed to worth it.

"Though you will never be muscled, you will have the strength and grace of a cat." Raku informed her and Alanna was content, though she was jealous of the muscle part.

"Worry not, "Raku said as if he could read her thoughts, "without muscle you will be underestimated, that is good when it comes to a fight. Your opponents will tread less cautiously than they should."

Alanna nodded to the wisdom of his words then turned her eyes forward in wonder. Far on the horizon a great jumble of buildings sprawled across the plains of grass. A long road ran all the way forward and disappeared into the masses of towers.

Next to her Raku urged his mare forward, closer to the warriors surrounding them, Alanna hesitated then followed. The warriors ahead moved aside like water around a boulder, though they seemed surprised as they did so. Rounding the bend Raku loosened the reins and yelled the mare shot forward, her ears pricked. Alanna's roan followed her lead and Alanna let her run.

Wind breezed through her horses' mane and tickled her face and Alanna was hit with a memory.

Moonlight tossed her head begging for more rein, which Alanna granted, and her hooves pounded the lush green grass. Alanna lifted her head back in joy and uttered a fierce battle cry and lifted her arms up, riding with only her legs. Air rushed over her tunic and ran tendrils through her hair which streamed out behind her. Sunlight kissed her upturned face and Alanna felt as though she was flying...

Suddenly coming to her surroundings Alanna lowered her arms and clasped the reins again, regaining control of her roan. Next to her Raku was ginning, the first she had seen him and he seemed younger and free in a single glance. Ahead of them people scattered out of the way of the two galloping horses and indignant screams were lost behind them as they thundered past.

Their wild ride wasn't to last however and as they reached a small withered tree they slowly pulled in the reins and slowed to a trot. The horses were snorting with excitement and fighting the bit, Raku got his bay under control but Alanna was having trouble. Her roan had a very hard mouth and had taken the bit between his teeth, his back coiled and then launched upwards, trying to unseat her. Alanna snarled and pulled her reins even tighter as her gelding began to buck and rear in an attempt to toss her.

Raku watched nearby, an unreadable look in his eyes. Spinning around Alanna could have sworn she saw him smile but then she was moving again. Suddenly growing tired and feeling rage building inside of her Alanna hissed, "G'vananex." Around her thunder boomed and Alanna's sense of the world sharpened. She could feel the life force of the tree under which she had ridden, the small rodents scurrying through the grass and the nobility of an eagle soaring overhead. A roaring filled her ears and she slumped dizzy in the saddle and obsidian began to veil her vision, the roan had frozen and had his ears clamped to his skull in fear.

A look of horror and wonder crossed Raku's face and faster than any mortal could see he leapt from the bay and appeared at her side. Whispering words in an ancient language that leached power, he touched her forehead and energy flooded into her body. Reaching out he touched the roan's neck and he calmed as green fire rippled across his coat. Then Raku swiftly remounted his mare, which never noticed his weight loss and acted as though nothing was wrong as the guards drew closer.

Alanna shook her head and looked about her dazed but then she straightened, perfectly all right. The fury on the guard's faces was outmatched by the Lords, his face was a livid purple and he seemed at lost for words. Suddenly a horseman yelled out, the knight was mounted upon a big steal charger and wore his chainmail as though it were only a winter coat. The shield on his arm and that of his man at arms was an acorn glowing above a reaching hand.

The Lord turned to face the Knight and his entire manner changed, he finally drew himself up off the poor horses back and stood proud in the saddle. The guards turned to face the arrival, some with distrust and others with amusement.

"That is some fine riding of some very fine horses." He said earnestly addressing Alanna and Raku. Suddenly Raku's air changed.

He bowed from the saddle, subtly motioning Alanna to do the same, "Why thank you my Lord Charles. It is an honour that an accomplished horseman thinks so highly of one's so unworthy." He bowed again and the Lord cut in.

"Sir Charles," he said in false conduct, "how generous of you."

The arrival looked over at Sir Francis of Golden Field in contempt, his demeanour changing. "Not generous, "he snapped in reply, "fact. Any fool with eyes could see the potential these mounts have, and the skills of their riders."

His man-servant shifted in his saddle and looked the horses over before returning his attention to Sir Francis. Alanna's master simmered, "Are you offering to buy them?"

Sir Charles snorted, "Not likely, too old for me and I like my possessions with spirit, these have speed only."

The guards in purple and red shifted and at the Lord's signal nudged their horses forward and around Sir Charles.

"Well, that may be the case, "Sir Francis sniffed as he drew level with the other Knight, "but we know you couldn't afford it anyway."

The man-at-arms reached for his blade with a snarl and was halted by his Lord, "Let me hear you say that on the duelling courts My Lord, and we will see who cannot afford the best."

Kicking his grey he trampled through the ranks of guards, nodding to Alanna and Raku, his man following him. The Lord stared after him furiously and sword under his breath. Turning his livid gaze on Alanna he snarled, "I will punish _you_ later."

Alanna gulped and glanced to Raku, who kept his face blank, she knew what her punishment would be. Hanging her head she avoided looking at Raku and fell in behind the carriage as the procession wound its way into the city.

The capital was surrounded by tall smooth walls that surrounded it almost full circle; as though a bite had been take out. From her room Alanna could see that where there was a small gap there were towers seemingly build out of the sea rising up as seagulls circled. Each had a great cannon sticking out of it facing the harbour entrance. The remained of the wall had been built out across the sea, leaving only a very small entry/exit for any ships. Towers had been built at the end of each wall and Alana could see people marching from the sea right around to the other end. The space in which a variety of warships, merchant ships, fishing ships and diplomatic vessels lay tiered was massive. It was as big as the Lords house she thought with amusement, even bigger and just for boats.

To the side of these ocean fortifications was a great cliff, needing no guard against enemy vessels as jagged rocks lay beneath vertical rock stretching into the sky. It would be a long trek if someone were to run to the top and back, very good stamina training.

Alanna returned her attention to the Lady and began to weave her hair with netting and pearls. Anya was stretching up on tippy toes to link necklaces across the Lady's neck, and would replace each necklace with a new as the Lady disapproved of her reflection.

Each Noble family was only permitted to bring in on male servant or slave and two female slaves, an extra precaution Raku whispered to her as he was forced away and he and the other male slaves and guards were escorted to different housing. The Palace had extra slaves working around the clock and one was assigned to every family, a lot of hassle just to prevent the assassination of the King and his heir. The queen had already been slain, within hours of the Kings awakening the towns people knew and within days the entire country new in which the horror she died and the spoken threat against the King.

The King still held this ball, on the sixth month of his son's birth, even though there was an even greater chance his safety would be threatened than usual.

Brophy was with Lord Francis, dressing him and seeing to his Lords needs, Anya and herself were to see to the Lady's. Alanna had been selected to wait in the shadows during the ball in case she was required; Anya was to wait in the Ladies room, as Brophy was to wait in the Lords room. Alanna was worried about Anya's safety, though she knew any complaints would fall on deaf ears and she wanted to see all the Lords and Ladies dressed in their finery.

She felt a tinge of apprehension though, for she was sure that just before they had entered the Palace walls a statue on top of one of the temples had moved and she couldn't shake the feeling she was being watched.

She cast her discomfort aside as worry for Anya and the fact this was the first ball she had been to in a new country. When the Lady was satisfied with her own appearance she sent Anya to a chest and ordered Alanna into the bath she had previously vacated. Alanna obeyed, having learnt the folly of disobeying the Lady many times over. The Lord was cruel when disobeyed but the Lady had him seem tame in comparison so now when she ordered Alanna to remove her clothes and "step closer" Alanna obeyed, even though she felt uncomfortable.

The Lady tilted her head as Alanna removed her clothes and stepped into the scented bathwater. Alanna scrubbed herself into her skin was red, cleanliness was something she had in common with her Lady master, and stepped out of the tub. Water cascaded off her skin in streaks and goose bumps crawled across her skin as she shivered.

Anya laid her bundle on the bed and stepped forward with a towel, Alanna smiled her thanks and quickly dried herself, used to the Lady's eyes on her.

The Lady flicked her finger to the clothes and Alanna walked over to the bed, her hair stroking her dry skin. A satin black dress was on the bed and Alanna gulped, it was something she had never worn let alone seen before.

The Lady cleared her throat and Alanna glanced to her before reaching for the dress. Anya helped her into it and zipped it up as she held her hair up. "Dry your hair, "the Lady commanded a strange look in her eyes and Alanna obeyed.

The Lady fluidly moved towards a desk and after Alana had dried her hair, bade her to sit before it. Alanna closed her eyes as a horse hair brush ran through her hair, she had long got used to The Lady deciding to groom her and decided she enjoyed the feeling of the brush. Anya watched and occasionally held strands of hair as the Lady began to braid it, after she applied face paint to her skin. Finally the Lady stepped back and sighed in content, Anya too stifled a gasp.

Slowly Alanna opened her eyes and rose to face the mirror. Her eyes widened as she took in her reflection, agreeing with the Lady's smug smile. Her hair was pulled back in layers from her face and was straight down her spine to her lower back. The black dress had a plunging neckline though didn't reveal anything un-fitting of a young woman and showed her tanned skin. The dress flowed down from her breasts pinching at her hips before billowing out in layers of silk, reaching slightly above her knees. Black lines on her eyes and a light shading of purple powder above her eyes complimented the entire look. She was beautiful, even in stillness she held an aura of grace and subtle strength, and she looked tall, a fact she had to smile at.

There was a knock at the door and the Lord entered, followed by Brophy. When he saw her the Lord paused and Brophy stopped in his tracks and stared, his eyes roaming over every inch of exposed flesh and snagging on her breasts, hips and legs. Alanna glared at him and he just smirked, eyeing her with lust. Internally she shivered and externally she straightened, her gift unconsciously shifting beneath her skin, glowing a warning through amethyst eyes. Brophy ignored, or chose not to see her eyes beginning to smoulder dangerously and kept looking at her, a hungry look in his own eyes.

The Lord and Lady linked arms and the Lady gestured Alanna to follow. She complied, though skirted slightly around Brophy, missing as she walked out the door, the promise in his eyes.

Raku slipped silently out of the makeshift barracks and slunk down the cobblestoned streets, avoiding the irregular patrols of guards supposed to be preventing against an escape such as the one he was making.

Weaving his way through alleyways and over buildings Raku made his way to the great walls surrounding the Palace. Shrugging his powerful shoulders and clenching and unclenching his fists Raku took a run forward. Reaching the wall he dug his boots into the stone and launched himself from foot to foot and free climbed the wall. Perching on the top he waited for a patrol moving through the garden to move past.

Leaping down he stiffened when he heard the furious barking of dogs and black shadows streaked towards him. Reaching out his hand he spoke to them, in a language of old and they slowed down and sniffed his hands before trotting off happily.

Internally cursing at his arrogance Raku called to his gift and cast himself invisible, silent and un-sensible. Some would consider it cheating to use magic, Raku disagreed. He wouldn't kill a non magic user with magic just as he wouldn't kill an un-armed man with a weapon. He would fight and kill as they did, magic just made achieving his task easier.

Striding down a side track, marked with small flat stones he came across an apprehensive looking man that was glancing from side to side hurriedly. Raku frowned and walked straight up to the man, waiting until he looked away before making himself visible.

When the man turned back and saw the heavily built Raku he gulped after leaping through his skin. Reaching inside the door in which he was standing he bought out a bundle and handed it to Raku before disappearing into the shadowed doorway. Raku scowled down at the slave garb and used magic to switch his clothes with the slave clothes. Turning his attention to the small pouch of black satin Raku made it rise until it reached his hands. Opening the string he looked inside and smiled, it was a special Spaceless pouch, a pouch that never ran out of room and never changed size, no matter what was its content.

Tucking the pouch into his slave robes Raku inhaled deeply before entering through the shadowed doorway. He, like the Prince before him knew every single crack and crevice of this great castle built by slaves and fluidly walked down corridors, sliding easily past other slaves and guests.

As he slipped into a forgotten corridor and opened a secret passageway, Raku steeled himself for the task to come. The King that commissioned the building of the Castle he had conceded to an advisors request to have secret chambers built within the very foundations of the palace, passageways to provide an escape route for the members of the royal family if they should need it.

Pressing a brick in the wall Raku waited silently as the door before him began to rumble and slid to the side in a puff of dust. Holding his breath Raku walked into the room, the young slave girl looked at him in horror and opened her mouth to scream.

Raku's eyes slowly closed as she inhaled and then snapped open, his magic flooding through his body and slowly veiling green across his eyes. He thrust his hand forward as though to catch what could have been thrown and power burst from his palm and slammed into the slave. Raku was a peaceful man, before his breaking and while he could kill now without mercy and torture others without respite he killed those he considered innocents quickly and as painlessly as he could. The green magic hit the slave in the chest and rippled up her body and she collapsed as the blood vessels within her brain burst simultaneously, killing her instantly.

Magic gently caught her and lowered her onto the carpet as Raku walked deeper into the room and looked around him. Long silk curtains were drawn across large windows and a single pair of glowing lanterns cast light onto the pearl crib. The room was positioned so the slave could have seen him as he walked out of the tunnels even if there had been no noise. The slave could have been looking in his direction anyway. Walking forward Raku withdrew the pouch from his slave garb and reached inside. With his mind he called forth the "Kavankanla" or Deaths Breath elixir.

Deaths Breath was an elixir given by the Tribes of The Plains to young warriors before they attempted the Trials of Life. The elixir was an offering to Death himself and the young warriors would mark ancient runes in the liquid across their skin before setting forth the journey to become a man. If he survived the journey and returned with more elixir he would become a man, a warrior and be permitted to take a mate.

Raku withdrew the elixir and drew symbols softly on the sleeping babes' skin, brushing away the small locks of brown hair from his forehead. Moistening his lips he began an incantation that would send the Prince to Death and wrote runes unto the air which hovered above the child like mist. Replacing the elixir Raku leaned over with his right hand and placed his little finger and forefinger to the corners of the boys' eyes and curled his remaining middle fingers. Stretching his thumb he gently touched the tip to the newborns lip. Straightening and removing his hand he whispered, "Sleep well little one, your mother is awaiting you and shortly you will be joined by your shire."

The runes began to swirl golden in the air and spun like a tornado above the child's forehead before being sucked into the symbols. His eyes fluttered and the rise and fall of his chest slowed and became still. Raku sighed at the dead child before him; he loathed killing innocents, especially children. His only comfort was the knowledge the child hadn't felt a thing and had felt an immense happiness before he died.

Pivoting Raku strode back into the open tunnel doorway; his task was not yet finished.

Holding the tray before him Raku kept his head lowered as he navigated the pillars and people in the dining hall. Lords and Ladies stood dressed in their finery clutching diamond glasses and eating the greatest food while silent slaves wove between them, filling drinks and offering food to the Kings guests. Raku's own "Masters" were trying to edge their way into a group of younger, better dressed laughing nobles. Raku snarled and withdrew deeper into his mind, he hated Nobles, rather he hated all those who thought they were above everyone else. The thoughts and the feelings of the Nobility swirled around his consciousness in flashes of vibrant colours, usually silver, gold, green, red and blue. The mental movements of the slaves were similar though each was tinged with dark colours like brown and black showing their feelings, they were caged, and they were animals.

Suddenly purple flashed through the colours and burnt away at the bright colours before vanishing. Raku blinked in surprise and tried to find her, when he did he stopped. A Lord snapped his fingers in impatience as he demanded a drink, Raku quickly bowed and apologised and offered him a refill.

Slipping behind a pillar at the side of the room he looked for Alanna again. Her flaming red hair ended below her shoulder blades and was woven among each other right down the centre of her head in an elaborate braid. The jewel usually hidden by her clothes gleamed at her neck and an expanse of skin gave way to a revealing coal dress, showcasing her figure. Its length ended above her knees showing the contours of her entire body, feeling eyes on her she looked up. Black lines emphasised her eyelids and her lashes looked longer, framing her vibrant amethyst eyes.

Her head turned as she scanned the room and as her gaze passed him Raku felt caught, like a rabbit in the clutches of a hawk. Her eyes pinned him in place for the briefest of moments and Raku felt a strange stirring within him, her gift lurked just under her skin, giving her a strange glow that no one but an impressive mage could see. Where the non- gifted could see her magic was in her eyes, they were gleaming fire, though nobody looked. Each person told themselves it was because her eyes were purple, Raku knew better. Her gift was slowly taking control, and that worried him.

A magician's gift only took control when it felt itself in danger, Raku was the only magician in the capital able to challenge the expanses of gifted mages and he had disguised his gift behind that of a much lesser healer. It was true he hadn't really used his gift in the time her had known Alanna, but he had used it when he saved her life after she had drained her magic. Thinking back on that Raku again wondered how she had known the words of power. Only ancient manuscript told of the language and all complete translation had been lost for millennium, Tahakén was the exception.

She hadn't even known she had ordered the gelding to "Be still". It had taken all her gift and was sucking her life force when he had interrupted. The words of power were only spoken in great need and where never used lightly especially to command a horse to stop bucking. When words of power were spoken it was at great risk but the end result was what was desired. As Alanna had ordered the horse to stop moving the horse had no choice to obey, words of power granted power over all. Alanna didn't know any words of power, he had checked by invading her privacy to scan her mind and memories.

Yet now her gift was stretching inside her body to cover her in a shield and it was coiling inside ready to lash out. Looking about with his gift Raku saw every gift of every person flaring beneath their skin, some instinct telling them danger was nearby. The gifted ignored the feeling, telling themselves they were excited for the crowning of the Prince and kept up conversations, believing they were safe. All accept one, Alanna was obviously on edge. Her eyes constantly looked about the room and she flinched when she heard something loud.

Raku's eyes narrowed, if it wasn't his presence scaring her, then whose was it?

Conversations halted as the King rose to his feet. Raku inhaled and withdrew his pouch, now was his chance. Walking through the nobles returning to their seats he walked up behind Alanna and reached into his pouch. His hand was on the hilt of a blade when the doors suddenly burst open and a scream cut through the air. "The Prince,' the voice hollered, "He has been killed!"

Alanna spun around and looked to the door, along with every other person in the room. Collective gasps hung on the air and a strangled groan came from the King. Suddenly guards crashed into the ballroom, pushing nobles out of the way to get to their King. Screams began to fill the room and the Nobles began to flee as chaos pursued.

Alanna looked around for her Lord and Lady when she suddenly saw Raku in the Palace slave garments. He had frozen with his hand in a small pouch and the hilt of a blade was peeking through his fist. When he looked back from the departing King surrounded by jostling guards and saw her something strange flashed across his face, then he turned and ran. Alanna frowned, certain her mind was trying to tell her something but no matter how hard she tried to reach it she couldn't.

Making up her mind she wove between the fleeing Nobles and chased Raku down the hall, unaware a pair of eyes was watching her in puzzlement.

Dropping from the ceiling the Prince watched as the girl with purple and green magic ran down the hall, chasing the Assassin. Then suddenly he smiled, the slave girl obvious meant something to his "brother", the banished Tahakén Prince, known as Raku.

**Authors Note:** As always, please review. Its a late birthday present for me :D Dont leave me presentless :)

I hope the storylines are now making sense. From now on it will be a lot easier to understand, I hope. More Alanna now and maybe some Jon, Gary, Raoul and George.

JZuliaGirl: I know what you mean, now hopefully its a bit clearer.

Some one who cares: Who cares about Jon? Hes a dick for betraying her! But on a serious note, he will feature soon...

Twilightjen: You reviewed asking if

"im just wondering do you hate keladry or is it just that you want it to be  
more dramatic? just wondering, hopefully i dont sound rude or anything"To answer: No I dont like Kel, (how did you know) but your question doesnt make sense to me. PLease rephrase. On a better note, Im glad you like when I get creepy :) A little more to come :) 


	14. Fierce September 13

Chapter Thirteen

**Fierce September**

Leaning against the wall Alanna tried to halt her desperate breathing, as well as her racing mind. She understood now, Raku was an Assassin, sent to kill the King and his son. She wasn't sure what to think of him, did she hate him for not telling her? Or did she understand, she hadn't told him she was a Nobel after all. Her mind was in a shambles, but one thing was clear, something was telling her she needed to get to Anya now.

Straightening she stumbled forward, following her instinct, trusting it to lead her to Anya. Slaves were scurrying about like ants, carrying belongings and guards were running down hallways with their weapons drawn, knocking down any slave that got in the way.

Alanna made sure to press herself against the wall whenever they ran past and tried to quicken her pace, the worry in her growing as she ran for Anya. Running, she found was quite difficult in a dress and she was thankful it was short so she could stretcher her legs, no matter how short they were.

As she rounded a corner the pounding in her ears suddenly stopped and Alanna saw a door, part way open and inside stood Anya, with her back towards Alanna. Using the breathing exercises taught to her by Raku she slowed her breathing and then kicked the door further open. It slammed against the wall and rebounded back, with a snarl she bought her arm up into guard position and as the door hit her it shattered, her gift was in full fight mode.

Stalking into the room Alanna halted, Brophy stood naked apart from his loincloth in front of a naked Anya. Alanna moistened her lips as he turned to look at her and had to restrain herself from moving and slaughtering him. The look in his eyes both infuriated and scared her, Anya turned too and when she saw Alanna she looked down in shame.

"Anya, get out." Alanna ordered, her eyes drilling into Brophy's. Alanna glanced at the frozen girl, "Now," the menace in Alanna voice was chilling and Anya quickly obeyed, taking her clothes with her as she left.

Brophy looked at her and licked his lips, lust in his eyes. Alanna glared at him, "How dare you," she hissed in fury. Brophy looked confused, "She only just turned nine," Alanna snarled as she took a step forward.

Brophy smirked and looked over her again, slowly and divided the distance between them. "Are you... suggesting... I "pick on someone my own size?' Alanna's eyes flickered and her gift began to tense. Brophy licked his lips, "Yes, that is a_ much _more desirable," striding forward he grabbed her.

Alanna punched him in the face and shifted into a defensive position. Brophy recoiled, clutching his broken nose in shock. Straightening he cracked his nose back into place and charged her. Alanna flinched, close combat wasn't the area she excelled in. As he barrelled towards her Alanna shifted to the side and was knocked back as Brophy moved to match her. As they fell to the floor Alanna began to feel afraid.

While Brophy was halfway through his life, he had once been one of the greatest warriors in the land, and though he had let himself go he was still more than a match for the out of practice and small Alanna.

Kicking him in the stomach Alanna quickly rolled away from him, determined she would never let herself be on the ground while she was alone with him. Brophy got to his feet and eyed her viciously as he panted. I will make you pay for that, his eyes screamed.

Circling each other they avoided the furred carpets and the furniture was shoved to the side of the room. The room consisted of a bed with railings on top of it, holding the large draping curtains, two small sets and a desk next to the bed with an old lamp on it. A large cabinet stood silent in the darkened corner. Reaching her Brophy tried to grab her again, though kept his senses alert for her attack. He was ready when it came; her hand balled into a fist and lashed out towards his stomach. He bought his meaty arm into guard and knocked it off target and with his other grabbed her as she pulled it back. She spun and twisted her arm to manoeuvre behind him, it popped and with a cry of pain she jabbed her other fist into his lower back.

With a yell he released her and stumbled forward. Behind him Alanna clutched her dislocated arm, in too much pain to press her advantage. Brophy turned and leaned against the side of the bed as he regained his breath. Alanna, teeth bared in pain panted as she watched him.

Swallowing she suddenly ran at him, ignoring the pain as she reached for the railings on the bed. Her good arm took the strain as her other arm gave out, and as Alanna kicked Brophy in the chest she silently thanked Raku for the "Dance of the Snake" lessons that enabled her to hold herself in the air with one arm.

Brophy fell back and Alanna let go of the bed and fell back onto the desk. Her head slammed into the corner of the wooden table top and her vision went black. Brophy winched as he sat up and looked around for Alanna. He grinned when her saw her lying limp beneath the wooden desk and shuffled off the bed. He arrogantly approached her and kicked her viciously in the side, she moaned in pain and her eyes flickered beneath her lids. Satisfied she was alive but unconscious Brophy reached for her dress, he wanted to see this one as she had been born.

He ripped the fabric from her shoulders down to her bellybutton and ripped her arms from the silk. Outside there were great screams of pain and crashes and fierce winds, Brophy glanced to the open door as dozens of troops in full armour ran past and the clang of weapons followed.

Alanna kept her eyes closed as she slowly came to and only through mental supremacy did she keep herself from flinching when she felt meaty fingers caressing her skin. Still, her control wasn't perfect and her skin crawled as he touched her. Silently and limply she waited for her head to stop spinning so she could think and move. She was naked but for the token from the goddess and her loincloth, as was Brophy. Alanna's breathing began to quicken, though thankfully he never noticed, so caught up in his lust. As he reached to make himself bare Alanna moved, she jammed her knee into his groin and pushed him off her, adrenaline and fear giving her strength.

Turning she looked for anything she could grab as Brophy reared up, her hand fell on the lamp and with a cry she bought it crashing down on his skull. He groaned and slumped forward onto his hands, Alanna bought the lamp on his head again and again until he fell to the floor and was still.

Panting Alanna watched him, lamp poised as blood stained the carpets and eventually, when her heart had stopped hammering, she cautiously stepped around him. Keeping an eye on him she looked about for something to cover herself with. Walking backwards she reached the cupboard and opened it. Inside was a range of plain and fancy boys clothes, Alanna sighed in relief. Quickly she picked through the clothes and pulled some on.

Stepping cautiously out into the hallway she gingerly avoided the bodies _and parts, _blades and shields. Reaching down as she passed a dead guard she took his blade from his reaching hand, ignoring his staring eyes. Following the path of destruction which got worse and worse as she walked deeper into the hallway she eventually came to a bottle neck. Looking around her Alanna felt sick, she had never seen so many bodies all in one place, some bodies were barely recognisable as bodies and blood hung on the air like dust, swirling around her as she moved.

She covered her mouth in horror and felt the familiar stirring within her gut that told her she was about to vomit. Leaning over she retched, loudly and didn't stop until her stomach was empty. Wiping her mouth and straightening, Alanna spat and walked in through the doorway.

The room was once fine, that much was obvious. Large curtains would have shielded windows and carpets of animal skin softened the floor. Gold lamps and candlesticks would have sat on ancient gleaming desks and the large bed would have had feathered pillows and silken sheets. Not now though, now the room was a blackened crisp and looked as though a tornado had swept through it. There were guards in here to, each corpse burnt beyond recognition, bodies melted into armour and bones clutching shrivelled hilts. Oddly, the room smelt like roasting meat and Alanna had to fight her body to not retch.

A soft groan interrupted Alanna's appraisal and Alanna froze. When it repeated she crept forward as silently as she could on the crunching furs and over to what looked like the remains of a bed. A blackened hand twitched and the moan came again. Alanna quickly rushed forward and shoved the mattress off the person. Turning him over she recoiled, it was the King and he had a great dent in his skull and blood was weeping from a wound in his side. His face was burnt and blood welled from cracks in his skin.

Alanna swallowed and looked him over with her gift, confirming what she already knew. He was dying, and there would be no miraculous healing for him, no awakening from death. Reluctantly reaching for her gift she touched a finger to his hand, hesitant to touch him.

"Sleep, your majesty, join your wife and child in death, "Alanna was so distracted she never heard the soldiers enter the room until it was too late. She rose and spun to face them; they looked from her holding a blade to the King to their dead comrades and made the obvious, though incorrect conclusion that Alanna was the killer. Blades slid smoothly out of sheaths and the warriors slowly advanced on her.

Alanna blinked and looked about her, knowing they would kill her if they caught her and that they wouldn't listen to reason. The window, Alanna moved without a thought. She launched herself towards the glass and narrowly missed being caught by the guards that swarmed around the spot she had just vacated. She threw the blade into the dirt as she fell out the window in a shower of glass and her good arm lashed out at the creeping vines alongside the building. She bit back a scream as her dislocated arm slammed into the wall, her entire body weight behind it.

Gritting her teeth she dug her bare feet into the vines and jumped down, letting her good arm slide down the length of the vine. Before she gained too much speed she would halt herself by gripping the vine and forcing her feet into the stones. Before long her hand was stained green and blood was leaking from her toes and fingers. Finally reaching the ground she looked around and then ran, not knowing what direction, just putting distance between her and the guards.

She was running full speed through a rose garden when she heard a whimper. She froze instantly, jumping up and twisting to the side to avoid an arrow she was sure was coming. The whimper came again and Alanna walked forward, off guard. The guards wouldn't cry to distract her would they? Peering through the roses she saw a small bundled form and sighed.

Checking to both side of the path Alanna pushed the roses aside and went and knelt next to Anya. The girl was sobbing into the dirt, her arms wrapped around her in the foetal position, she only noticed Alanna when she reached out and touched her shoulder. Anya squealed and shuffled away from Alanna, further into the rose thorns. "Anya, "Alanna said softly shaking her gently. Anya only cried harder and screamed to let her go. When Alanna tried to shush her she screamed even louder. In the distance the barking of dogs could be heard and the soft shouts of orders.

Alanna couldn't wait, sighing she stood and turned to leave. The token from the Goddess burned at her throat. Reaching behind her neck she unclasped the gift and lowered it to the ground next to Anya. "I hope it keeps you safe, little one."

Then she began to run, her arm jarring with every step. She mentally cursed herself when she reached the smooth wall guarding the palace and slunk along both sides trying to find an exit. The closest she came to one was a crumbling pillar, holding and older section of the wall. The wall wasn't much to concern themselves with. It faced the ocean and a giant un-climbable cliff. To each sides of the wall the water had eroded so much of the land and it was guarded night and day by towers. She couldn't go that way, and the terrain was dangers and sharp rocks. Horses would break their legs in seconds and the rocks meant you had to scrambled up or around them.

The barking of the dogs grew closer and she could hear the footfall of the guards as they followed the dogs. Making a split decision she positioned her bad arm between her legs and then, with her good arm pushed her shoulder as hard as she could. Her joint popped back into place and the sound was masked by Alanna's cry of pain. The dogs fell silent as did the guards and then they started again furiously. Turning to the column Alanna prayed to the Trickster God she would be able to do this. Gripping the wall, she started to climb, wrapping her arms and legs around the pillar she shuffled up it slowly.

Reaching the top she lifted herself upwards with a grunt and lay panting as the roses bushes rustled. Black and brown shadows streaked across the grass towards her and snarls met her as the dogs tried to climb the wall.

To her right and left the guards at the towers had been alerted and were moving about. Alanna took a step forward and fell, down the wall and into the harsh rumble beneath it. She yelled as she landed on her left foot at an angle. The guards heard her cry and turned to see her next to the wall. Orders were yelled and the guards began to cross the dangerous terrain towards her. Alanna got to her feet, forcing the pain away and ran for the edge of the cliff and the rocks beneath.

They couldn't torture her if she were dead. Hobbling forward she pushed herself towards the whiteness ahead of her. As she got closer she saw the whiteness was actually sea foam and she could taste the spray as wind blew it back into her face. Behind her dogs had been released and were scrambling across the rocks ahead of their much slower chainmail burdened human companions.

Reaching the edge of the cliff Alanna edged forward. Water rushed up the face of the cliff as she stood there before retreating back and revealing the gleaming teeth of the rocks that guarded this side of the coast. The water splashed her face and the wind rushed through her hair and for the first time since she had left Tortall, three quarters of a year ago, she felt free. As the first dog, a great big tan and black beast reached her she took a step forward and flew, into oblivion.

As she hit the water she was immediately thrown against the cliff and the impact knocked the air from her lungs. She didn't fight, as she was slowly drawn into the deep water, the shafts of light now failing to pierce the waves, and closed her eyes as the ocean wrapped her in a soft embrace.

Above on the cliff a guard peering into the water swore he saw a flash of red among the rocks and ocean. The assassin was dead, she had thrown herself off a cliff and now they would never know who had paid her to murder the Royal Family. Above the skies began to weep, and lightening flashed. There was a storm coming.

The man standing on the cliff ignored the lightening and the thundering skies and focused on the rampant horizon. Wind rustled through his cloak causing it to billow out behind him. To any looking towards the ocean they would see a shadow standing on the cliff, lightening backing their form and their cloak lashing out behind them. In the next lightening flash, the figure was gone.

The storm raged for three days and three nights and on the morning of the fourth day a ship with sails of a blood moon and a hull and mast of coal sailed through the mist.

**Authors note:**

As always read and review. This chap isn't Beta-ed as my previous Beta wont contact me and my new one is busy. I hope there aren't too many mistakes :p

ZuliaGirl: Tis indeed upsetting to find Raku is a prince :) No, Alanna didnt end up getting lashed. The Lord and Lady needed her to mcu for her to be punished that , I feel loved :D

TwilightJen: Naw thank you. No, they werent running from anything. It was like, have you ever just driven a motorbike or something to full speed just to feel the wind hit your face? Or ridden a horse at a gallop to feel the thrill and the power beneath ya? If not it was just for fun and because Raku's horse was getting restless.

Spazzy(mind if I call you that?) Okay, thanks. Im glad it made sense. And reading through it is a bit rushed, guess I wanted to finally get to the exciting bits :p Sorry, I hope this one wasnt to rushed...

**Now, for a spoiler to the next chapter...**

If **Blue** could change into sapphire, azure, cobalt, navy, cerulean etc

_And_

**Rain** could be water, stream, river, ocean, sea, drizzle, downpour etc

Then **Blue Rain** would be a mixture of all the words e.g. Sapphire sea or azure river etc

Green could be emerald, jade, olive, lime etc

_And_

**Light **could be beam, beacon, glow, lantern, radiance, illumination etc

Then Green Light could be Jade Radiance or Emerald glow etc

If I was to say **Red Sun**, what mixture of words am I looking for? :p


	15. Crimson Dawn, Part I

_The Crimson Dawn Part I_

The storm raged for three days and three nights.

On the morning of the fourth day, a ship with sails as pale as the full moon and a hull of blackest coal sailed through the mist. The sea itself was relatively calm, yet a small swell pushed at her bow and an ever-present mist somehow parted to allow the ghost ship to sail further into the Blood Strait. The Blood Strait was aptly named, as its treacherous waters seemed to split even the bravest ships into splintered pieces while drawing their crews down into its icy depths. The Strait itself formed a very slim channel between the islands of Arovna and provided a direct route to the Western side of the Copper Isles. Sailing this route took five weeks off the entire journey, though very few captains took the risk. Only one man, the captain of the Red Sun, dared test the Strait on every journey. He alone brought his crew through without a scratch, every time.

Among sailors familiar with the Strait, this fact alone made him a legend. Whisperings of his journeys were tarnished only by the reputation of the very ship he commanded, as the Red Sun was one of a kind. She was the only ship in the sea with a black hull, black mast and pure white sails, which were emblazoned with a fierce red sun.

On land, tavern drunkards delighted in slurring stories of the Red Sun to whomsoever would listen. However, no-one would ever embellish these tales or have a word to say about their credibility. Wise men kept their silence, or clapped the poor sod on the back and finished the tale with their laughter. The Red Sun was not to be spoken of. Not even in jest. Lest she come after you next.

It was common knowledge among sailors and landfolk alike that whomsoever encountered the Red Sun on the high sea, would never return to port. Home port, at least. Fine, healthy sailors were known to fetch a very fine price slave markets in the East – and the Red Sun made her captain money, of that there was no doubt. At every docking port her crew would buy drinks, women, supplies – anything that pleased them. While her captain would buy silks, gold, gems – all the material goods he could desire.

Despite such frivolous spending, the captain of the Red Sun was also renowned for the sale of ship's cargo. Trading merchants would happily turn cut-throat to lay their lands on goods from the Sun. Her cargo included prized weapons, famed delicacies, rare furniture and the finest clothing from all the realms. This merchandise was so rare, so prized, that royalty had been known to pay a great deal to obtain their share, and as such, they turned a blind eye to the less ethical trading methods of the vessel.

It was also rumoured that the Red Sun had… special abilities. An old sailor who recounted this tale at a tavern last Samhain was toasted for his great storytelling flights of fancy, but that was all. Still, he told that the ship drew on the magic of the sea to work its own magic, which it used to create suites of rooms within the ship. The Sun wasn't a very large ship, but the quantity of goods that were loaded and unloaded from its hold would fill at least three ships of an equal size. Those who had gathered to hear the sailor's tale laughed when he told of spaces as wide as a field behind a single door. Perhaps so many long years at sea had driven him mad. Perhaps.

There was much cursing and movement aboard the deck of the Sun as it yet again sailed true and steady through the misty waters of Blood Strait. At last, a deckhand leapt into the sea with a twist of rope tied tightly around his waist, and all was quiet.

Meanwhile, at the ship's rail, her captain simply waited.

Though but a span of minutes had passed, a sea-wrecked stranger was gradually hauled aboard and laid on the wooden boards at the captain's feet by his dripping deckhand.

The stranger lay on their side, a mane of flame-red hair covering their face. Their arms were crimson from days of exposure to the sun, while the rest of their ragged body was covered in cuts and bruises that the salt water had cleaned and kept cool.

The captain knelt and watched the shallow rise and fall of the stranger's chest before he grasped their chin with one large hand and slid another behind their head. The movement lifted his newly rescued prize slightly from the deck and tilted their concealed face upward for closer examination. Waves of matted red hair fell away from the stranger's face, and at once, the captain did something he was not proud of. He started slightly, almost upsetting his balance in front of the crew. It was a girl. On his ship. Ah Gods. This could not bode well.

Suddenly, as if in response, her head jolted in his hand and she gave a hacking cough, her eyes fluttered open to meet his own. To his internal satisfaction, he was able to remain frozen in place, yet several gathered crew members visibly jumped and retreated several paces while making the sign against evil across their chests. His crewmen were ruthless, and had been killers since they first drew breath, but this girl's eyes were… purple. It was unearthly, not to mention unnerving. Coupled with the appearance of a storm fierce enough to send even the Red Sun to the depths her discovery was clearly perceived as an omen by the crew. Good or ill, however, he did not know.

The head of the flame-haired girl swiveled in his hand, and her purple gaze swept across the men gathered around her, "What are you looking at?" she croaked through cracked lips. Somehow she managed a glare before her head struck the polished boards of the deck with a solid thud. Out cold.

The captain frowned, and gestured to his still dripping deckhand, now several paces from where he originally stood.

"Lawson. Take her below deck, and keep her alive. If she dies… you do too. The rest of you men, back to work."

Though it was clear from his face Lawson would rather once leap overboard than lay hands on the girl again, he scrambled to obey. As did all his crewmen.

The captain stood, and dusted himself off before turning back to rest both forearms on the ship's rail. His gaze then focussed keenly on the rolling dark clouds they have passed through, now gathered on the far horizon.

"I'm sure she will have an interesting tale to tell when she wakes", he said, voice raised slightly. Yet, as though they could not hear him, or perhaps did not want to, his crew continued their duties around him.

Alanna's eyes opened to a dimly lit ceiling moments before a nauseating rocking feeling rolled through her. That meant only one thing. She was on a boat. The very thought alone caused her to lean over the edge of her cot and retch into a bucket she dimly remembered being placed there.

Flopping back weakly into her sheets with her hair plastered to her forehead, Alanna closed her eyes and took several deep breaths as she tried to still the rising storm within her stomach. Eventually, once the worst had passed, she cast her eyes around her in suspicion – as one does when awakening in an unfamiliar place. There was a shelf of worn, well-read books to her right, while directly in front of her cot, which was flush up against one wall, was a small basin and a pull-cord hanging next to what seemed to be a hollow tube. In the far corner of the room was a well-woven hammock, clearly well slept in judging by its tattered appearance, while a small pine desk was bolted to the wall to its left.

Looking above her, Alanna squinted in puzzlement at the source of the soft light in the room. A single globe was suspended from the ceiling which glowed with all the light of a fire, though it spread further into the room than light from a flame would. She stretched her hand up toward it experimentally and found that it didn't give off any heat, but its glow was still comforting.

"It's a firelight lantern," a deep voice rasped from behind her. "The newer model."

Alanna quickly snatched her hand back to meet her chest, like a small child caught doing something they shouldn't, and turned her head to face to the doorway to the left behind her cot. Her eyes met those of a man who stood in the doorframe, his hulking form making it seem smaller than usual. His skin was stained dark by years of exposure to the sun, and his face seemed to stretch as he spoke again, "How are you faring?"

Moments passed before Alanna realised she had looked at him just a fraction too long without speaking, and managed to croak "I'm on a boat."

His eyebrows rose briefly in response and with a look of exasperation the sailor strode over to the side of her cot, seemingly choosing to ignore how she shuffled slightly away from him. He then took one look into the bucket at her bedside, half-filled with murky seawater and bile, before he grasped its handle and deposited its contents into the washbasin. Alanna stared as he pulled the chain above the basin with slightly more force than was necessary. There was a gurgling sound as clear water gushed from the hollow tube into the basin, before it disappeared back into the decking.

After rinsing the bucket and setting it back into it original place, the swarthy man produced a tin cup filled with clear water. Alanna looked at it momentarily before realising that it wouldn't do her any good to dishonour her host in this unknown environment. She sat up, took the proffered cup and drained its contents greedily.

He watched her finish, and seated himself at the end of her cot. "Name's Blair," the giant man said, as he offered a large hand for her to shake. Alanna took it gingerly. As she expected, his palm was that of a sailor, warm but callused. She relaxed marginally, and bowed her head slightly in greeting before she reclaimed her hand.

The corners of Blair's previously friendly mouth tipped downward, "When someone introduces themself it's generally polite to reply with your own name, girl." Alanna blinked, the sailor had suddenly changed from open and friendly to firm and irritated. He practically radiated impatience.

Swallowing she answered, "Alanna."

At this, the sailor inclined his head and relaxed once more, settling back into his previous demeanour, almost. "I'm sure you have an interesting tale to tell," he said, holding her gaze. It was a statement. The air of command was unmistakable.

She cleared her throat. "Well, I was in-"

"Before you begin Alanna," he said, barely hiding the steel in his tone, "I warn you, you are in dangerous waters. Don't even _think_ to lie to me."

Alanna twisted her hands in her lap and started again, opting instead to leave some details out rather than openly lie. "I fell off a cliff and then..." Alanna paused as she tried to recall the events afterwards, "I don't remember."

"Do you know where you were before your fall?" Blair supplied.

Alanna quickly searched her mind for a suitable answer, "Ah- I was serving in a Lord's castle. I can't remember his name."

The sailors eyes snapped to hers, his expression said what he did not need to. He was well aware she was concealing the truth. "Very well," he said in a low voice. "If you do not wish to tell me everything I will not force you, yet."

Alanna lowered her eyes and nodded. She hoped she didn't appear too grateful.

"However," he added, "if you are to stay onboard this ship, you will report to the kitchen an hour after dawn tomorrow, and you will jump at every task the cook gives you, understood? Everyone aboard has a job to do. You are no exception." With that, the sailor got to his feet and left her alone in an unfamiliar bed, on a boat, with strangers, in the middle of Mithros knows where.

As if in despair, her stomach began to protest once more.

The next day, as she clutched at the edge of a wooden bench, Alanna fought to regain her balance as the ship rolled. Merely steps in front of her a small, spindly man moved easily with the motion of the ship as he picked up two plates of steaming food from the bench and turned to hand them to her.

He froze as he took in the green tinge of her face, and snatched his plates back away from her. "Into the sink!" Cookie bellowed over the noise of the creaking ship.

Alanna thrust her head into the sink just in time.

When her stomach was empty, Alanna took several deep breaths to calm herself, as was fast becoming her tradition onboard the ship. Then, she straightened and wiped her mouth clean. Cookie again offered her the plates of food. "Hurry along girl, and don't be too long in findin' yer sea legs. Ye won't last long here if ye don't," the elderly man said with a frown as he gave her a shove out the kitchen door.

In the hallway, Alanna practically juggled the plates like a professional player as she stumbled heavily against the walls each time the ship reared out of the water. She'd used almost every foul word she'd been taught before she made it to the sailors mess. The mess was a large shared area, a square room big enough to accommodate at least a dozen burly sailors. It had four doors, one through which she was about to enter with another opposite, along with two opposing doors in the centre of the two remaining walls. To her dismay, almost a dozen sailors were seated around the large wooden table in the centre of the room when she made her entrance. All turned to look at her in a hungry way, which had less to do with the food she carried and more to do with the fact that she had breasts, as she set their meal down.

Luckily, Cookie came in moments after her, balancing four plates on his spindly arms. He set them down in the middle of the table easily as the ship suddenly leaned to one side; but Alanna lost her footing and stumbled backwards into the wall. Her face went as red as her hair at the sailors' laughter, but she got back to her feet. "Go fetch the last tray girl; it's yours," Cookie instructed, unable to suppress a smile as he took a seat. Crimson, Alanna obeyed.

When she returned, Alanna took the only empty place at the table, next to a large sailor who studied her with the same predatory gaze that a cat uses to watch a cornered mouse. Her skin began to crawl, but she was too hungry to ignore the warning her instincts supplied. Before she had made it halfway through her meal, she felt his rough fingers creep their way up her thigh. At his touch, her fork paused in midair, almost to her mouth.

"Get your hand off my leg," she snarled, barely able to control the urge she had to stab his errant hand with her cutlery. The other sailors chuckled at her display of ferocity, which her neighbour seemed to take as a further invitation. He dragged his hand from her leg, along her hip and stomach, higher, to just beneath her left breast.

"Come on, little hellcat. I'm a lonely lad, long days at sea and all that. No taste of a woman since I seen me wife off at port," he said, as he sneered with lust and laughter, encouraging the others to join his game.

"Off. Now," Alanna hissed, slowly tensing.

The rowdy sailor grinned and turned to face her before he reached out and pulled her onto his lap, his meaty fingers firmly clasped around her middle. "Come now lovely, let's have a little fun."

The sailor next to him lay down his cutlery and shifted to reveal a short dagger at his side, a silent indication that his comrade was clearly going too far with their guest, especially since she was Cookie's new apprentice.

Her captor ignored the warning and pulled her face to his for a kiss, but before his lips met hers, Alanna let her fist fly – straight into his crotch. The sailor howled and clutched at his manhood, in the same movement he flung her away from him so that she collided with the sailor who carried the dagger. As she landed against him, Alanna slid the blade from its place at his belt and deftly slid it up her loose sleeve before assuming a defensive stance against the wall. Around her, ten sailors slowly got to their feet, obviously unimpressed at her actions toward their shipmate.

"Just, stay away from me," Alanna warned, feeling outnumbered but somewhat reassured as she fingered the fine steel of her concealed weapon.

Sailors love a scuffle. They ignored her warning.

The first man to reach her was young, perhaps a few years older than herself, but well muscled. He grabbed her round the middle from behind with arms of iron, and held her in place for a blow aimed by another crewman. Before the blow came, Alanna removed the dagger from her sleeve. With both hands and a speed that surprised her, she thrust the blade between her body and elbow straight into his chest. He provided almost no resistance as the dagger sank home and, as his blood spurted forth onto her clothes, Alanna was barely aware that the steel of the blade had begun to vibrate and hum.

It had begun to sing.

Though one hand still held the dagger, Alanna spun to see her victim. His eyes were wide in shock at the speed of her attack, and focussed wholly on the blade where it protruded from his chest. A small stream of blood spilled from the corner of his mouth, but he made no sound as he slid to the ground.

Alanna pulled the humming dagger from his chest and clutched it in her hand as the dead sailors shipmates turned to her, shock and outrage abundant in their eyes. As they closed in on her, Alanna felt her breathing change and slow, her world decreasing until it consisted only of the sailors in front of her and the dagger in her hand. Her eyes changed from soft amethyst to sharp crimson The dagger whispered to her. It promised to kill them, assured her of their deaths. If only she would surrender herself to it, just for a moment. One moment, and she could be free.

Through her haze, she heard a new voice call "Enough!"

This voice was familiar, even through Alanna's blood lust haze it was strangely comforting.

"_No,"_ the dagger whispered, "_let us kill them. They dared to threaten us. Let us kill them, we will be safe and happy, you and I. Undefeated."_

"_Safe and happy_", thought Alanna, as though in a dream. _"How nice that would be."_

She felt the dagger chime with joy, and pleasure flooded through her body as she stepped forward and slashed the blade across another sailor's turned back. They were brawling amongst themselves now, all fists and intoxication. The blade sang in her hand with the joy of taking a life, and Alanna felt her gift stir in revulsion.

"I said _enough,_" the familiar voice hissed and this time the command was clear. The voice _would_ be obeyed.

"_No,"_the dagger whispered desperately, "_he means to hold us. We cannot let him; we don't want to be caged. Not again. Never again."_

At this statement, something within her snapped, and Alanna's gift roared within her in protest at her lapse in control, breaking the newly forged bond between girl and dagger. As she struggled to be fully free of its influence, Alanna struck out aggressively at the remaining sailors. She wept in helplessness as her arm carved an arc through the flesh of men who stood too near.

As she moved, Alanna felt as though she was drowning in a fast flowing river, water churning above and around her. She gasped for breath and closed her ears to the last desperate whispers of the dagger, which pleaded with her to reconsider its offer. With the dagger in her hand, it was as though she struggled to be free of a strong current, but finally, her fight for complete control was rewarded when she thrust her arms up and out of the influence of the river within her mind. Then, as if from a great distance, she heard the dagger clatter to the floor.

She swayed, unsteady on her feet, and dropped to her knees as a roaring sound thundered through her eardrums. Blair's disapproving face swam for a moment in her field of vision, and she could make out the shapes of a few men lying prone on the floor, but mainly, Alanna was aware of the crack of her head of the wooden floor as the world faded to black.

When she awoke several days later, clear-headed and able to resume her duties, there was no sign of the dagger. No-one so much as mentioned the incident. To Alanna, it might as well have been a dream. However, every member of the crew made the sign against evil whenever she passed.

She was not troubled again, by the men at least.

On the high seas, however, trouble is never far away. Unbeknownst to everyone onboard, the black and white sails of a pirate ship fluttered gently in the breeze just over the horizon.

**Authors Note:**

**Redflame: I dont like Kel :). But dont worry, she isnt in this story.**

**ZuliaGirl: Maybe I should have changed the sun to dusk or something...**

**Anyway. As always, review! I crave reading them, it fuels my insane I must write moments :D Thanks to The Whisper for Beta-ing *hug***

**Part 2 will be up when I feel like it :)**

**Regards, CDL**


	16. Crimson Dawn, Part II

**A/N: Un-edited chapter. Haven't heard from my Beta in a while, hope she alright **

**The Crimson Dawn, Part II (Final part)**

The triple cannons blasted into life as they enemy vessels came into range, one to the stern and two double canons roared as a second vessel came along side. Orders were bellowed by the first and second mates and the crew members off shift threw themselves from their hammocks, mess hall and relaxation up the ladders and onto the deck. The captain stood calm and in control at the helm staring down the snapping flags of two pirate ships. One ship had the traditional flag of a skull and crossed bones against a black sail and the other had a curved white blade against a deep blue.

Turning to his second he ordered the opening of the Dragons Breath hatches, the first mate flinched and then turned and roared instructions. Suddenly a sailor appeared silently at his side, his age not betrayed by his bearing, and stood tall surveying the chaos about to commence. Between the blasts of cannons and yells of crew a clinking was heard. From within an opening hatch, in even pockets of deck, a small tripod rose. It was connected to a small tube and had what appeared to be a catch at the end, it was blackened, like that of ash. Less busy crew members rushed to each point and a rushing sound could be heard, the crew lifted a latch and a spark ignited at the tubes entrance.

Suddenly there was a gushing sound and oil erupted from the tube and into the fire, the crew of the alongside vessel cried and fell back as an explosion of furious fire ripped across the side of their ship and flames licked at the wood. Suddenly water erupted from the churning sea holding the ships and reared up to douse the fire. The sailor standing next to the captain snarled and raised his hand, the enemy mage visibly gulped.

Sailors rushed from their newly acquired positions in front of the "Dragons Breath" to gather arms and planks and grappling hooks. The other crew were still firing rounds against the vessel at the stern and some were unleashing volley after volley of poison tipped arrows across the narrowing distance. The ear screamed as cannon balls the size of a child's head ripped into the ship, there was yelling as a second round of firing began and the sailor next to the captain turned and pointed, screaming a word at the approaching cannon balls. The balls slowed as though stuck in mud before stopping and spinning in the air, at a flick of the sailor mages wrist they turned and launched themselves back at their ship

Returning his attention back to the enemy mage a soft red magic swirled around him and reached out tendrils to the enemy mage whose own brown magic hurriedly cloaked him. Sailors from the other ship saw his power and his disabling of their mage and rushed past the crew towards him, crude daggers and knives raised. The Captain leaned down, easily lifting the battle axe hidden next to his legs and bellowed a challenge as he straightened. The charging sailor's eyes flickered and fear flashed through them before arrogance overcame them, they were many, and he was one. The crew of the Sun chasing the enemy crew returned their attention to boarding the enemy vessel and killing the sailors, their mage was safe, so long as their captain stood.

Stepping forward the captain swung the axe over the shocked sailors arm and straight into his unprotected head. The man's eyes filled with pain and then the momentum of the swing took him sailing through the air; he landed on the other side of the ship with a thump and lay still. By the time his comrades recognised his death, the giant was upon them, expertly twirling his seemingly light battle axe through their defences and into their soft bodies.

The captain of the Sun was left alone after that, no sailor dared approach him. Reaching into his tunic the captain withdrew a bundle and placed it on the railing in front of him, pausing only to slam his axe down on the head of an unsuspecting enemy sailor as he rose to stab the mage. Flicking open the bundle the captain withdrew a curved blade; it glittered and gleamed in the sun. He grasped the blade in the middle, it curved around his hand and it looked as though it were a small bow in his hand. Stretching his hand back he took aim and threw the blade forward, it spun through the air and cut easily through the neck of an enemy soldier about to fire an arrow. The captain's arm snapped up and he caught the blade as it came back to him, clean and ready to kill.

Returning his attention back to the status of his ship and crew the Captain surveyed the damage. Dead and dying sailors, his own and the enemy's littered the ship's deck and blood was slowly staining the wood. Long cords from the enemy vessel were looped around the masts and were dug into the deck. He frowned in annoyance and looked to the boat port-side, it was fairing much worse. The "Dragons Breath" flame cannon had done its job, the hull and railing of the ship were blackened and smoking and rigging was broken and hanging from the mast, their sails had long slits in them and their sailors were being quickly dispatched, though a group surrounded the mage determinedly. Looking to the stern the captain grunted, the ship with the flag of a white blade against blue had turned and was limping away, the risk of taking the barely hobbled Sun too much.

Suddenly the brown magic veiling the enemy magician faltered and the red magic surrounded him in an embrace. Red magic swirled around before snapping back as brown magic punched through a hole and the red magic fled with it, a crimson train, towards the fleeing vessel. The Red Sun's mage blanched and fell back to be caught by the captain unconscious, his gift drained. The sailors guarding the brown magic mage flinched as he died and then swift met their own appointments with the death god. The sailors of the Sun cheered as they realised they had fought the enemy off and had captured another ship.

The first mate came and stood next to the captain and looked towards the fleeing ship, uneasy about the brown magic and the red that had fled to the ship. Their unease was answered as the ship, well out of cannon range, turned and movement was seen on deck. "It's not yet over," the first mate roared and the crew stopped their celebrations and turned to the surviving enemy vessel.

Suddenly the vessel rocked back against the waves and a roaring could be heard, a massive ball of flame cloaking a huge cannon sped toward them. The crew stayed silent as wind lashed against the rigging and against eh sails, there was no escape, they could only wait and hope they didn't die. Instead of hitting them, the magic drive cannon flame ball smashed into the mast of the captured ship before turning slighting and slamming into the deck, near the Sun and sinking through into the depths. The enemy ship creaked and groaned and then the mast, slowly tilted and fell, like a great tree towards the Sun.

Yelling, the crew on the Sun encouraged their comrades to abandon the captured ship and rendezvous on their own. The crew scrambled away from the falling mast and launched themselves across the small gap between the ships, hoping to free their ship from the other before it was too late. Now the captain realised the purpose of the cords, they couldn't hope to cut them away before the mast fell, this must have been the plan originally.

The rigging screamed and snapped as the mast fell, unable to hold the weight and the crew scattered away, some leaping into the turmoil that was the ocean and others searching for escape inside the ship. The captain stood at the helm and watched, unafraid as the mast fell towards the suns deck. It ripped through the sails and crashed through the cross section of the mast, sailors cried as the rigging lashed back and flung them through the sky. Suddenly the air stilled and thickened, the mast halted, inches above the Suns deck. Turning the crew looked in awe and fear at the single figure that had come up from the hatch. Her hair danced as though in the wind and her clothes rippled, purple fire covered her from head to toe and she was trembling with the strain of holding the mast.

She focused her amethyst eyes on the mast and it quivered before slowly straightening until it was once again where it belonged, then it fell in the opposite direction from the Sun, and slowly began to sink. The sea boiled as the mast hit the seas surface and slowly the waters rose, up around the two hobbled vessels. Wind lashed the surface of the sea towards the now swiftly move waves. Slowly they grew, rearing towards the clear sky until it was blocked from view; all that could be seen was the twister of water stretching above the vessels that were safe in the eye.

Then the girl pointed towards where the enemy ship was last seen and the waterspout moved, across the churning sea. As the wall of water gained ground the crews awe turned to fear, though no one dared to speak least they break the spell. When it reached the vessels it parted, as though curtains had been opened, and then closed once away from the ships.

It faded not in its purpose as it cut through the waves and fell upon the fleeing vessel with vengeance. Screams couldn't be heard through the groans and creaks of a ship being ripped into pieces by tooth and claw of water.

The ocean returned to its slumbering state almost immediately after the waterspout had destroyed the ship and had dispersed. Slowly the windless ring surrounding the sun and the semi sunk ship wisped away and a breeze picked up. Breaking the silence the captain ordered clean up after disentanglement from the sinking vessel. The crew were slow to move almost as though they were sleep walking, casting glances of fear and awe at the girl mage as they kept their distance from her.

Taking a deep breath Alanna sighed, suddenly tired and swayed on her feet. She was exhausted, her gift drained and her energy depleted, her eye lids flickered and she looked up and over to where the captain stood. She blinked in surprise and then regretted it as her eyes fought to shut. Opening them she looked at the giant captain and fear flooded her as a veil of ink crossed into her vision. She never felt herself falling and hitting the bloody deck, all she was concerned about was the vision that would haunt her dreams.

The captain stood proudly at the helm of a ship of ebony, ebony so glassy your refection could be seen and a whisper of breeze ran tendrils through a sail of blood. In terror she clawed against the shades of sleep smouldering her, she needed to flee, she was aboard the Red Sun.

Alanna slept for five days and five nights after saving the Red Sun, on the sixth morning she had awaken. That was three days before, now she stood on the bowsprit wind brushing her face as she allowed the suns first rays to kiss her face. She was waiting, as she had done since she had first found herself aboard the vessel, for a decision regarding her future. Once she had woken from her coma like state the sailor guarding her had swiftly fled the room in terror, screaming for the captain.

The captain had come within moments, flanked by his first and second mates and a man Alanna recognised as the sailor she had taken the singing dagger from. She looked for it now and he nodded, "It's been locked somewhere safe."

Alanna blinked, she hadn't spoken had she? "We have to decide what to do with you, child," the sailor continued and Alanna looked at him. He was old; probably the oldest sailor on the ship and his eyes had the timeless look about them she recognised in the most accomplished of mages. His build was wiry but he had muscle, though much less than that of the younger sailors next to him. Listening to him Alanna looked to his companions; the first mate had wrapped fabric around his forehead, a vain attempt to help heal a large gash above his brow. The second mate was well over six foot, several inches taller than the first mate, though even he was small compared to the captain.

Alanna stared at him in shock, he was truly a giant, and he would put even Raoul to shame. His brown hair was almost black and was long, in comparison his facial hair was none existent. Black eyes looked on in amusement as he was recognised and then he spoke.

"Alanna, "Blair rumbled, "What an unusual creature you are." Alanna glared at him and crossed her arms. "Firstly you appear out of know where, many leagues from the nearest habitual land, carried safely across shark infested waters, through the biggest storm I have ever seen. Then you cut down members of my crew in moments, even with the use of a Tah-," he cleared his throat and glanced to the Sailor Mage before continuing, "even with the use of an enchanted dagger, that once it has sung to you ,you are its prisoner until you die, that is no mean feat. And then you appear out of nowhere during a battle and not only halt a falling mast, you create a water tornado to destroy the remaining ship." Captain Blair shook his head in amusement.

"You can't imagine my predicament. After your actions last week my crew have demanded your immediate death. I am, however, cautious to choose such a path. You are only alive after so much for a reason, Lyn here," he gestured to the Mage, "tells me you had the most magic he has ever seen when you arrived. Now he tells me it is gone and your magic amount will return to almost normal in the next few days." Lyn nodded and leaned against the wall.

"Whoever is protecting you will no doubt be angered at your death, and I need not create needless enemies of unknown power. But surely you will be missed, and soon _they_ will search for you. That could prove difficult, though not impossible, and they would naturally question your treatment once you were found." Blair stopped talking and scratched his head. "As of now, my options are to kill you and feed your corpse to the sharks or sell you the moment we make next port and rid myself of everything you bring."

Alanna turned white, she didn't want to die but she didn't fancy her chances on board the Red Sun with the crew wanting her dead. "We will have decided within the next few days and will let you know. Until then you are free to leave your room and go up on deck, please don't cause any trouble, I would hate to have to manacle you."

The first and second mates left followed by Lyn who looked back at Alanna. "And don't worry," the Captain of the Red Sun added "My crew won't bother you." He looked like he wanted to say more but held his tongue and left.

She had been told yesterday that the decision on her life would be made today and so she had spent the remaining night at the bowsprit among the stars reflected upon the smooth surface of the ocean until the night had begun to flee. She felt movement behind her and turned expecting to see chains in the hands of the crew brave enough to come near her. Instead Captain Blair stood next to Lyn looking embarrassed. "Lyn here has argued for your life." The mage nodded and looked Alanna in the eye.

"I am old, child," he rasped, "old enough to be at the end of life. I had a student, the sailor that had the unfortunate experience of getting on your bad side". Alanna was suddenly reminded of the sailor that she had stabbed in the chest. She flushed and looked down.

"No matter, I have not many years left and am in the need of a student. One not terrified to be aboard the Red Sun." Alanna's head jerked up and she made to interrupt, "But I-"

"No, "Lyn cut her off, "You are not afraid, not as most are. I think that is because you didn't know you were aboard this vessel before you got to know some of us. "Alanna fell silent and examined her feet.

"We could kill you," Captain Blair said, " though I would rather not as you _did_ save many lives and killed the cowards responsible , we could sell you when we port next and get profit, we could let you go for free..." Blair's eye twitched at the word free," but letting you go free goes against our principles _or_ you could stay and be Lyn's apprentice for upwards of five years-,"

"Lon enough for me to train you in all I know, though I think I can train you faster as your gift is already very impressive and you seem to have some training," Lyn cut in.

The captain glared at his mage and continued, "And then time for you to find and train a new suitable apprentice. Or you could stay with us until your death..."

Alanna looked up and glanced between the mage and the captain in rage. "So those are my only choices? She asked, "Stay with you and train, be killed or be sold?" Her voice rose to squeak at the end and the Captain stifled a laugh, oh her tiger-kitten fury. It would truly be a waste to kill her.

"Yes," the Captain answered, "After you have trained a new willing apprentice you will be free to go. We will drop you off anywhere near our course and you will never see us again. You will be paid, "the Captain continued, "along with food, shelter, protection, training, a bed and whatever else you will need. We take care of our own." The Captain emphasised.

Alanna looked him straight in the eyes and snarled. "I want a contract signed in blood." This time the Captain couldn't contain his laughter and his boomingly laugh carried across the sea.

"Child, I do not think you are in a position to make such demands," he gasped when he could speak, "my word is my law. I will not break a promise, not even before death."

Alanna glared at him, "Fine, "she snapped, "Ill train under Lyn until I know everything and then I will train someone else until they know everything I know. Then you will let me off."

The Captain nodded, 'Though I will need a blood promise from you and an oath upon your Gods that you will not jump ship at the first docking."

Alanna glared at him and drew herself up, which wasn't very high considering the towering height of the captain and hissed, "No. I will not make a blood promise or swear before Mithros and the Great Goddess. _My_ word will be my bond."

Captain Blair looked at her in amusement before he realised she wasn't joking, and then his face turned blank. Lyn nodded and smiled, "This one is different. She is telling the truth; until she has trained a student she will not leave service. Her pride and honour will not allow it." Bowing slightly Lyn turned and walked back into the hatch leaving Alanna with the Captain. He came and stood next to her facing the rising sun and took a deep breath of sea air.

"It will be a glorious day, "he stated as he gazed into the rising red sun.

"What makes you say that?" Alanna asked, sure that not even the Captain of the Red Sun could predict the days ahead.

"That, "he jerked his head towards the dawn. Alanna looked at the rising sun, noting the stains of red it was beaming across the lightening sky.

"What?" she asked, still not understanding.

Blair sighed, "The crimson dawn." Alanna looked at him and then back at the sun and nodded. The dawn was truly crimson, as though the sun was red for the briefest of moments in its life.

Sighing Alanna turned and walked down onto the deck, "You need a new name "she called over her shoulder as she passed the Captain. He was stunned, "What?"

"The Red Sun, it doesn't sound scary. It's your reputation that makes it sound scary," she said as she made her way down the deck.

"Oh really," The Captains tone made her stop and turn to him.

"Yes," she answered, "It doesn't even sound scary."

Captain Blair frowned, "And what do you suggest?" He hissed.

Alanna thought about it for a moment and then she saw the crimson halo backing Blair and she nodded, "That, "she flicked her finger towards him and then disappeared down the hatch.

Captain Blair looked around him in puzzlement, and then he felt the warmth of the sun's rays at a greater power than before. Turning he gazed straight at the bloodiest dawn he had ever seen. A true crimson dawn.

_Crimson Dawn_, he rolled the words around in his head and then he smiled, a sight that was rarely seen gracing the strong features of the Captain. Yes, she would fit in well on board the most feared outlaw ship in the seas, the _Red Sun_. _No_, he corrected himself, _The Crimson Dawn._

**Author's Note:**

**At the beginning of the last chapter, The Crimson Dawn Part I, the description was "****On the morning of the fourth day, a ship with sails as pale as the full moon and a hull of blackest coal sailed through the mist.**** "**

**That is incorrect, apologises to all (and thanks to Niger Unda for pointing this out) the correct description is "****On the morning of the fourth day, a ship with sails as crimson as blood moon and a hull of blackest coal sailed through the mist.****"**

**ZuliaGirl: As you were the only one to even try to guess, you can PM me at any time for a Spoiler, providing you don't tell anyone :p**

**Jewel: ... don't rejoice to soon. Alanna isnt out of the woods yet...**

**COTB: Why thank you! Hopefully this chapter is better **

**Cheers, CDL**


	17. Wisp Tail

Chapter Fifteen

Wisp Tail

Small waves lapped gently against the hull of the vessel as it approached the harbour and gulls squawked in fury as they were forced to leave the icy waters. The isles of El'Midador are in one of the most remote places in the world, a place so remote that it is only docked at by chance if a ship were to be thrown off course in a storm. Not for the Crimson Dawn however, it had been docking in the Capital ever since it had first set sail and had brought all types of trade to these end-of-the-world islands. The El'Midador horses were some of the most sought after in the world: the fertile soil filled with minerals and vitamins combined with a very selected breeding made for the fastest, toughest, strongest and smartest mounts over all the lands.

Only the strongest survived the weather conditions; it was sweltering in the summer and then during the winter the lush plains turned to fields of snow and the waterways would freeze over; a stark comparison to when they dried completely during the hot weather. If a horse couldn't survive, it didn't. After the colts and fillies reached three they were cut from the herd by the El'Midador people and trained to the impractical specifics of Tahakén. If they passed with the same untameable fire they had going into it they would be sold to Tahakén, however most were left broken beyond repair and left to die. Others, such as the ones the Dawn was about to purchase, were the weaker ones, cast from the herd after they were weaned and left to die from all manners of wild beasts, these were saved and trained to become the best mounts outside those from Tahakén.

The people were just as rough as the horses: loud and arrogant they were but fiercely loyal. If someone gained their loyalty it took a lightning bolt and one of their own to change their stance. They were as fierce and as beautiful as the land they lived off.

Two giants with muscles flexing like bands of iron took the mooring lines and tied the Dawn to the dock. Within moments the gangplank was slid across the gap and onto the wooden dock, Alanna gazed around her curiously as she crossed the plank and walked on land for the first time in many months, thankful to be on land.

The shape of the self-titled port, capital and island El'Midador looked as though the hand of a giant had crafted it. If one were to look upon the biggest island from above, they would see, through the smoke spilling from the volcano, a stretch of land, narrow and long. Small waterways scattered across the mountainous terrain and joined one big river, though it would be small by any other country's standards. It was guarded fiercely as well as the rest of the island by sharp rocks. Ironically naturally, a path cut through the rocks and up the river.

To reach the port, ship needed a very careful captain: heading northwest on the eastern side of the island, the ship entered a cluster of rocks and had navigated slowly south through tricky turns until it reached the mouth of the river.

After reaching the end of the river the waters opened to reveal a small crystal clear lake and flashes of silver would accompany the vessel up to the makeshift dock before darting back into shallower waters. Looking before you, you would see vibrant green fields before they gave way to slopes of great trees and on days when the wind blew the other way you could see the chilling beauty of lava slowly spilling down into the frigid sea.

On frosty nights, especially those of the full moon, eerie howling would echo across the islands, answered by a chorus of voices. Sometimes before the sun set, a great golden beast would lope onto the flat rocks spewed by the volcano long ago and bid the sun farewell with its roar. Nature would be silent then, as during the night but for the occasional scream of captured prey.

And on rare, very rare occasions a mournful humming would float down from the peaks and reduce all who listened to tears, even the land itself would weep. The mountain of El'Midador, the only one among the islands, was a sacred place to the people. Every year when the Crimson Dawn came they bought several large crates filled with the sweetest smelling substance. Several warriors would be chosen to guard the crates until morning and then the people would leave and not a single being would step foot on the mountain until the morning. The warriors never returned.

A passing Sailor saw the direction of her gaze and snorted. "I wouldn't be heading yonder unless you want to embrace death." As Alanna looked after him questioningly a second sailor came up behind her. "Them there mountains are a dangerous place, "he rumbled and told her a tale. It was drilled into children before they could walk: never ever stay upon the mountain during "Death's Song" for you would never return and all trace of you would be lost. Once a child had run from his home and decided to hide from his parents, thinking they would miss him and be worried. He was an accomplished hunter, warrior and tracker so his parents didn't fear for his safety, yes it would even teach the lad a lesson if he came across a pack or pride. Only when the song echoed down the crevices and across the plains did his parents fear. The father, a great chief, lea a group of warriors out after his son; they tracked him to the foot of the mountain when suddenly they heard a scream.

Yelling the warriors followed their chief up the slopes to the sacrificial grove, the place where the boxes where left, and charged out from the trees ready to face the "beast". All they found of the lad and the beast were the lad's weapons and a tooth of the first boar he had killed with only a sling.

With a roar of fury the chief swore a blood oath of revenge upon the beast and spirits for taking his son. He returned the next day and set alight to the trees and shrubs of the mountain, he stained the streams with the blood of any animal he came across and left their carcases to rot in the water.

The spirits became angry and the mountain rumbled, great fountains of magma burst from the volcanoes belly and into the dark day. The spirits are angry the people pleaded with the chief but he would not listen and when his mate was taken into death by air poisoning from the ash the chief raged. The people drove him out and then tried to make amends, they planted new seeds in the place of those taken by the fire and removed the animals from the streams and buried them with honour.

The volcano eventually subsided and the people thought things had returned to normal, unaware their banished chief was watching and waiting. During one of the "star rise" ceremonies that happened every century, the crazed chief stole a Wisp Tail before it could return to the Father-Star and hid it within the forest.

With a roar of fury nature turned upon the people; horses that had been loyal companions for decades threw their riders and then trampled them; the predators from the forests entered the villages and attacked everyone they came across; trees that once grew eatable fruit suddenly grew nettles and poisonous berries; the fish of the lake became diseased and the harvestable beasts were taken by the predators. The tribes of people were severally diminished by the time the cause for the disruption in the balance was found.

The defiant chief was dragged to the sacrificial grove and killed where the Wisp Tail was taken and his blood stained the earth crimson. The Wisp Tail was released along with the death of the chief with the hope that nature would return to normal. As soon as the Wisp had floated up into the sky and became another light among the stars the earth thundered.

Trees re-grew and dropped their poisonous fruits, livestock wandered back unharmed from the forests, furious horses became spirited companions; and predators slunk back into the shadows. Eventually the tale morphed to what was told around fires today and the only reminder of the legend was the bloody earth that made the sacrificial grove.

The sailors' eyes widened in mock terror as he completed his tale and slung his burden over his shoulder. He laughed at her wide eyes and carried on with his duties.

"Move," the first mate grunted as he and the second walked slowly across the plank and onto the docks, carrying a big black box between them. Alanna, unaware she had been gazing around her in wonder, stepped to the side and allowed them to pass. The two warriors hastened forward and positioned themselves under the box and helped carry the box beneath some trees next to the dock. As the box passed her Alanna's nose twitched and she leaned forward, wanting to inhale more of the delicious scent. A large hand on her shoulder stopped her from following the smell and she looked over to see Lyn standing close. He nodded towards the box, "Sweet isn't it? Try not to inhale too much of it, alright?" Alanna nodded; she had swiftly grown to trust the elder sailor and his easy but firm manner of teaching made for quick learning.

"Though this would be the first time I've seen someone so attracted to it," he said thoughtfully, watching as Alanna tried to shuffle closer to the box. A change in the wind bought the aroma back towards her and Alanna gasped, trying to inhale as much as she could before the wind shifted again.

"Interesting," Lyn muttered watching as her violet eyes widened and a spark appeared in them.

"What-what is it?" Alanna gasped as fire flooded her body and flashes of light exploded behind her eyes.

"It's a...ah... special substance..." he answered, skirting the question. Alanna noticed but chose not to comment and instead walked off the dock and onto the luscious grass.

"Alanna, " Captain Blair rumbled as he walked across the plank, "Buy whatever you want that is here, we won't be docking for at least another half month." Alanna sighed. Even though she had spent almost a year as a member of the crew she still loved being on solid ground, not that the ship was unstable but Alanna loved the feeling of grass beneath her as she gazed at the sky, the twine of a hammock was no substitute.

She nodded to Blair as he came up to her, "If you go somewhere let someone know. But stay close for tonight, we will be choosing from the herds tomorrow so get some rest." Walking forward he called greetings to some people he knew and he walked straight up into the tavern as though he owned it and marched inside. Alanna jumped up and down on the grass in joy, a great big grin crossing her face. Lyn smiled to himself at her almost childish glee and walked over to the boxes. No human would touch them and animals would give them a wide berth, but it never hurt to play it safe.

Finishing warding it he called to Alanna, "Come, it's my shout. Lariasha makes the best roast pheasant you will ever eat and the wine is a secret recipe passed down from generations."

Alanna stopped bouncing and beamed at him, her grin infections and loped over to him. For some reason she was really happy, almost deliriously so. She never noticed when Lyn frowned and glanced between her and the gleaming boxes in suspicion.

Alanna rode smugly next to Lyn as the First mate swayed dangerously across the back of the big bay beneath him. She didn't like the First Mate and she was sure the feeling was mutual; maybe it was because he was a sexist or because from the first day she had been taken on as Apprentice Mage he had been trying to turn everyone against her. Either way, watching the all capable and all macho First Mate struggle to ride a horse bareback amused Alanna to no end and she couldn't resist rubbing her superior skills in his nose.

She sighed with happiness; the sun was out, a small breeze danced through the blades of grass and she was on solid land. The horse beneath her was a beauty, tall, dark and incredibly handsome, his power haunches rippled as she held him at a trot. He snorted but kept to her restraint, even though she could tell he wanted to run and he was obviously intelligent. When he realised she could ride, that she knew what she was doing he had immediately tested her, to see what he could get away with. After trying, and failing, to buck her off he had become the most responsive horse she had ever ridden. He was very well trained and she said so, after that the natives were slightly kinder to her, but not by much.

She was used to being shunned, after all one cannot walk willingly and easily among the crew of the Dawn without suspicion, but these people took it to new extremes. At every new dock she was regarded as an outcast once they realised she was part of the crew and she was treated as though she were dirt. After a while she got used to it, though it still annoyed her. Maybe it was because she was supposedly unscarred or because the crew, with the exception of the First Mate, treated her as an equal, as a friend and as a woman, a young woman this was strange to these isolated peoples. But they treated their own woman well, better than well actually. Their women were treated with a great deal or respect and were obviously considered the equal of the greatest hunter. It was probably her hair and eyes she decided, they would never have seen purple eyes and they very rarely would see red hair.

Her mount snorted and tossed his mane and Alanna reached down stroked his neck and he quietened, though he still picked up his feet as though a show horse. The Captain looked back at her and after a word with the chief, who was riding next to him, gestured to her. Alanna nudged her horse and he willing and easily quickened his stride until he matched the stallion of Blair. His greys ears flew back but the chief barked a word and he snorted, but didn't strike out. "Ahead there is a very long field, which is used for pasture, which leads into a forest. We will be going through that forest and then it opens up into a valley. If you wish, you may gallop until you reach the forest." Blair glanced to the chief who rode a blood red mare and looked back to Alanna.

"There is a second stretch of plain to the other side of the island, "He lifted an arm and pointed to his right, "the river we came up separates the two plains. The cattle are currently on that side of the island so we won't disturb anyone."

Alanna grinned and shifted on the stallion as they cantered up a rise, her eyes gleaming. The sun shined brightly across leagues of lush grass and flocks of birds took fright as they saw the group.

She was about to urge her mount into a gallop when she remembered the chief. She glanced to him to see something flicker in his eyes, he inclined his head towards the pasture. Beaming she leaned forward and intertwined her fingers in long strands of dark brown mane and tightened her legs around his girth. Beneath her the stallion trembled and his ears pricked, though he waited for her instruction. Alanna laughed and released her restraint, muscles coiled beneath her and then she shot forward, from trot straight to charge within a few strides.

Yelling in exhilaration Alanna urged him faster as they raced across the fields, thunder rumbling through the earth they passed over. He gladly responded to her urging and stretched out until they were a blur passing through the wind, above an eagle screeched and flew with them. All too soon did the forest begin to appear and Alanna sighed as she shifted back and asked her mount to slow. He fought her for his head, he wanted to run, the whole point was just to run. Alanna shook her head from such thoughts and pulled his mane harder, leaning back so he would understand she wanted him to stop. Grudgingly he began to slow, though if he felt she wasn't concentrating he would lengthen his stride again and she would sharply reprimand him.

Halting just meters away from the forest Alanna turned and gazed back at the land they had swiftly crossed. In the distance her companions made their way through the grasses towards her. Snorting her mount pawed the grass and sidestepped in excitement, he was breathing as though he had just cantered up a fence line in a field not as he should have been after sprinting for over a mile.

She was still beaming from her wild run when the chief came up to her and watched her as they entered the forest. "He is called Thunder Foot," the chief spoke at length. Alanna looked at him curiously, he nodded to her stallion, "I'm sure you can guess why." Alanna thought about this for a moment and opened her mouth to ask why when a bird flew from the undergrowth into her mounts face. He reared in surprise and Alanna clamped her thighs around him in order to stay on, neighing he bucked and then pig stepped into the chiefs mount next to him. The chiefs chestnut tossed his head and froze in surprise and Thunder Foot startled again, coming into a half rear before Alanna forced him back to the ground.

As his hoofs landed there was a loud rumbling, like a soft storm within the earth. Alanna dismounted and came round to her stallions face; she stroked his nose and whispered to him. Eventually he calmed and the chief gave the order to continue forward, Alanna stayed on her feet and ran alongside Thunder Foot through the forest as she figured she could control him better. She could feel the chief's eyes on her but every time she looked to him he wasn't looking at her, she was annoyed, she couldn't see his eyes so she couldn't read what he was thinking.

Alanna's legs were beginning to cramp and tremble when they came out of the forest and into the clearing. Her breath was coming in short sharp pants and her face was bright red but she refused to mount as the First Mate was looking cockily at her and she wouldn't back down in front of him. It was hard work keeping pace with cantering and trotting horses a few miles and Alanna felt faint.

Dismounting the chief barked orders and a young warrior took their horses over to a small spring where he left them. A second warrior took his mount forward and into the canon as the chief began to whisper in a language that sent shivers up and down Alanna's spine as she bent over gasping for breath. Captain Blair moved over and stood next to her, "These people are very old, their nature, culture and magic have remained almost untainted since the dawn of time, or so mother says. Their magic enables them to breed the best horses in the world."

Alanna straightened and looked about her. They were in a small field, backed by the forests behind them and flanked by enormous cliffs that narrowed into a point a few hundred metres before them, there was a gap in the cliffs that the warrior had disappeared into and a thundering came from within. The chief raised his arms and tilted his head back, his eyes rolling. Silver magic veined its way across the front of the forest and streaked over the edge where their mounts were grazing. It shined brightly for a moment before sinking into the earth, a strange chime filled the air and the area that held the magic bust up and created a glittering silver cage all around the pasture.

"The people have various caches like this all over their islands. No one knows how they came to be or how they are able to use the magic, being a magic-less people, but the chiefs can once they are appointed in the ritual. The people use these for protecting their livestock from the various beasts that roam the untamed lands." Blair seemed to know all about them and Alanna raised an eyebrow to him.

"My mother was very precise in my education, "he smiled wryly, "at the time I never appreciated it but now I do. I have a basic knowledge of everything in these seas and the islands that exist here."

Alanna nodded, thinking that maybe the tribes in the desert would be more accommodating if someone were to try to learn their ways rather than forcing their law on them.

Alanna turned her attention to the loud roaring from the canon; small rocks followed by larger rocks were tumbling down the slopes. A shadow ripped through the dust and galloped straight across the fields, behind it followed the source of the thundering. The herd of horses charged straight from cannon and onto the pasture, snorting in excitement, following the herd was a great brown stallion, the tales of his conquest and rule written in the scars that rippled across his skin.

Alanna watched in awe as the horses, a mixture of colours, spread across the meadow and slowed to graze, keeping weary eyes on the humans. They were the most magnificent creatures she had ever seen, they were tall, built for speed but their chest and shoulders betrayed their strength and they made the chargers of the knights look like shaggy ponies so great was their superiority.

The Captain looked around at the horses and walked up to the band of heavily armed warriors that had followed the herd from the canon. Alanna, after glancing around herself, followed him, walking quickly to match Blair's giant steps. "Had any bad luck this year?" he rumbled to the leader of the band.

The warrior flashed a smile and shook his head, "Nay, tis been well an safe ts year." A scar across his check made his jaw un-aliened and his speech was affected. "None lion ahere since four moon," he added. Blair nodded and rubbed his hands, "Ill point some and we'll see them through their paces." Alanna wondered what he meant but then she realised, they were here to get horses and these would be the ones to choose from. Blanching at the idea of choosing a select few from such a fine herd Alanna hastened after her captain.

He moved softly around each animal and after watching them for a few moments he would move to the next, nodding to a warrior if he was interested in one. After he had chosen about thirty they were cut swiftly from the herd and were kept back as the herd was driven back into the cannon. Then they were mounted, if Alanna had thought Thunder Foot was an excellent mount these horses were the opposite. Warriors would take a running leap onto their back and cling like a bur to their mane as the animal would try to toss them. After tiring the horse it would respond to any instruction as though it were a highly trained king's horse.

Alanna asked Blair about it. "They are trained from when they were found, cast from the herd as weaklings. Then they are released if they are not needed into the tame herds. The warrior bands, "he explained, "swap over every half year and guard the horses from all the beasts here and they escort them to grazing and keep them to certain areas." Alanna nodded, she hadn't seen any fences and wondered how the people had kept their animals to certain areas.

After the horses were chosen, they were lead into the silver area were the other mounts were and left to graze. The chief sighed as the silver magic around the pasture faded back into the earth and snapped his fingers. The warriors all sat around him and bought out food parcels, Alanna sat next to Blair and the First Mate, ignoring the displeasure she felt radiating off him, she was starving.

Only when the sun was lowering into the horizon did they begin to move. Their meal was of fresh cooked meat, fresh juicy fruit that Alanna couldn't name and round moulds of bread and had well made up for the lack of food since the dawn meal. Feeling bloated Alanna rolled to her feet and promptly fell back down, the warriors that were awake chuckled and she blushed. She would move slowly and ease her strained leg muscles into movement.

The ride through the forest was uneventful and Alanna felt herself slipping off her mounts back in weariness. She righted herself before anyone noticed and began to mentally recite all the parts of a ship and its uses to keep herself awake. As they made their way from the forest she turned, sure that something was watching her. She couldn't see anything and slowly turned back, still suspicious of the eyes drilling into her back. The warrior riding next to her noticed her unease and her glances and spoke, "There's nothing there, if there was we would know." Alanna nodded, but still couldn't shake the feeling of being watched.

Alanna ducked as a pitcher of ale went soaring across the room and narrowly missed being crushed as one of the warriors charged a member of the Dawn and wrestled him to the floor. Punches flew as the friends of the warrior jumped in to help their very drunk and under matched friend. Sighing she picked up her bread roll and slipped from the tavern, getting into a fight wasn't her style and she would be heavily outmatched by everyone in there.

Standing on the steps she let the door close, muffling the cries of drunk and furious warriors and sailors as they clashed, and let the moonlight glaze her skin. Instinctively she looked over to where they had left the boxes four nights ago and started, they were gone. Stepping forward off the porch she looked around, where did they go? Almost running over to the tree she examined the footprints, Lyn had taught her the basics of tracking. The imprint of the boxes was left in the grass and faint footprints suddenly appeared and marched off toward the mountains. Alanna smiled, they were carrying the sweet smelling boxes somewhere, then she frowned, they were taking the boxes away! Snarling in rage she ran after the footprints and into the night, the beams of the full moon guiding her path. She wanted what was in those boxes, they were calling to her, soon she would find them, soon they would be hers.

With each step her rage and bloodlust grew and by the time she arrived at a clearing her vision was in a haze of red. In her fury she almost waked straight out into the ceremony, but her foot caught on a root and she fell. The knock to her head banished most of the anger and as she staggered to her feet she saw the root she had tripped over was actually a bone. She shuffled back in horror, covering her mouth to muffle her cry, it was a human leg bone and it was ripped almost in half and the ends were sticking into the red earth. That was what her foot had caught and had been the reason for her fall.

Slowing her breathing she gingerly stepped over the bone, her curiosity outweighing her fear she crept forward. Ahead was a clear patch of a dark red earth that waved onto a similar shade of hard rock that jutted out over a cliff. Below, water crashed against the cliff and sprayed foam into the sky. Sneaking further forward Alanna saw that the earth was barren and was barren but for red earth in a ring stretching the size of perhaps the Tortallan ballroom. On the outside of the ring a few trees were growing and the further away you got the more growth there was.

In the middle of the ring was a small pedestal, it was similar to a big chalice and was made of what appeared to be gold fire caught in glass. It was beautiful and glowed in the moonlight. Next to it lay the boxes, with small torches of fire dug into the ground around each one. There were also torches of fire on the line of the barren ring, casting a strange light on the red dirt.

A group of warriors wearing only a red dye stood next to the boxes with the chief who was casting symbols into the air using silver dust. Each warrior bowed as the chief passed them on his way down the path and into the forest; Alanna stayed as quiet as a butterfly's heart beat as he passed by her and carried on. Alanna shifted around until she found a comfortable spot and waited, silently in the shadows of a big fern tree.

She was dozing against the tree when the forest when quiet, the silence after a predator had made a kill and its foe had died loudly. Goosebumps receded across her body and she shivered even though the night was warm. A feeling of apprehension grew in her and she was paralyzed and her breathing quickened. Steadily the feeling grew and she tried to shrink into the shadows but something wouldn't let her move. Suddenly the air stilled and the torches fizzed out, the warriors sat in even spaces around the boxes looked up and then changed from sitting position into a worship submission position, with their eyes to the ground.

Alanna's fear mounted as the lids of the boxes dissolved into nothing and a clear liquid rose from within and glowed silver, an eerie glow like that of a scar. The silver liquid reached out to form above the chalice and a strange humming filled the air. Silver veins began to wind through the air from the kneeling sacrifices and into the silver liquid. Steadily the size of the veins grew and then a sharp chime clung to the air, with a cry of ecstasy each of the warriors titled their heads towards the stars. Alanna got to her feet, this was getting to spooky and her fear was beginning to drive adrenaline through her frozen body. Suddenly the sacrifices began to disperse, like a light snow storm being lifted by the winds, and blew into the silver storm.

A second chime echoed through the grove and then Alanna turned and ran as fast as she could through the forest in terror. For a brief moment she was sure she had seen an azure eye gazing straight at her from the centre of the silver orb.

She only halted her desperate dash when she came within screaming distance of the Crimson Dawn and bent over panting, dragging clean ocean air into her lungs. Gasping she stumbled further into the village and clambered up the steps to the tavern. Yelling, crashing and smashing came from within the inn and the door burst open to reveal chaos. Alanna swiftly stepped to the side as two members of the Dawn's crew wrestled five large warriors down the steps and into the dirt. Alanna looked at them in alarm and then looked cautiously inside the door. Chairs and tables, dusted with shards of glass and stains of ale, were strewn over the floor among brawling warriors and sailors.

Frowning she looked for the owner, a large smiling woman called Lariasha and found her standing in the doorway surveying the fighting men and the mess of her home in distaste. Alanna picked her way through the carnage and clambered over a broken table to speak to her. "Could I please have something to eat?" she asked politely, still retaining the skills of her etiquette masters.

Lariasha looked at her in shock, this girl wanted food while a full on brawl was going on in her home. Alanna, seeing the rejection in her eyes bought out a purse she had hidden on herself and dropped it in front of the owner. Gold coins spilled over the bench and Lariasha's eyes opened at the amount. Alanna jerked her head behind her, "For the damage also."

Lariasha turned behind her and barked something in her native tongue before turning back to the coins and sweeping them up. "Many thanks, if you take a seat your meal will be bought out momentarily." Alanna nodded and turned back to the fight, the Crimson Dawn crew were heavily outnumbered but were easily holding their own. The inn smelt like sweat and alcohol and the metallic smell of blood was beginning to intrude on the other scents. Alanna called back over her shoulder, 'I'll be outside", before navigating back to the door. Most of the sailors and warriors had left the inn and were scrambling about in pairs and threes tackling their opposition, screaming insults at each other.

Alanna took a deep breath and then leaned against the wall, hidden in the shadows. One thing piqued her curiosity though; no one was dead, yet. The sailors of the Dawn were a formidable crew and were proficient in the use of bow and arrow, staff and blade. Some where even more experienced without weapons, yet they were all weapon-less and were fighting hand to hand. Even the First Mate, who she knew to be capable in minor Shang, was fighting with his fists.

The warriors were also fighting with their fists, using their strength and speed to match the crew. Alanna figured it was some fight-as-your-opponent-fights and shrugged, if they wanted to be living and moving punching dummies that were up to them.

In the shadows and watching the fighting Alanna began to feel sleepy, her previous fear leached away. She felt content, almost like she was drugged and decided she was just happy because she was about to be fed.

By the time Alanna received her steaming meal and a mug of juice the brawl was still continuing. Alanna tucked into her food ravenously, her exhaustion fading, marvelling at the fighters' stamina and endurance to continue punching and kicking for well over an hour and a half.

Suddenly Alanna looked up; Lyn was gazing directly at her, his face expressionless, next to him stood the Captain and the chief. Blair looked livid, his gaze burned as though he could set the sailors alight with his glower. His words were lost over the grunts and curses, and he frowned even more. Alanna swallowed her mouthful, forced her eyes further open and picked up her juice, things were about to get interesting.

Very rarely did the Captain yell, Alanna had only heard him yell once, and the sound sent her cowering even though he wasn't yelling at her.

"Enough!" his raised voice and bellowed across the fighting warriors. Only those closest to him appeared to have heard for they got swiftly to their feet and moved to the side, the rest continued fighting.

Blair's face was turning purple with rage and he took a step forward and clasped his hands together with a snap. An explosion of power rippled out from the Captain and hit the fighting men hard; it flung them to the ground before continuing in a wave and dispersing into the forest. Alanna blinked in shock, the Captain had never shown any inclination that he had the gift, Alanna had seen him doing tasks that could have been much easier with the gift and wondered why he didn't just use his.

Blair marched forward until he stood in the centre of the fallen sailors and warriors. His voice quavered as he spoke in even tones, "Get up, now." The sailors hastened to obey and the warriors cautiously got to their feet, eyeing the legendary Captain wearily. "Who is responsible for this... This child's play?'

The chief standing next to Blair looked suddenly old and frail as he spoke in his own tongue to his people. The warriors, who stood like sheep in a corral, kept glancing to one warrior in particular and the sailor next to him. Blair turned his gaze on the sailor, "Staleom," he snarled to the quivering sailor, "What happened?"

The sailor glanced to the warrior next to him before inspecting the roughed up dirt and mumbling in a language Alanna was unfamiliar with. "What was that, Stalemon?" Blair asked, his eyes snapping and it occurred to Alanna he was trying and almost failing to remain in control. The sailor repeated what he said and remained silent, inspecting his boots. Blair turned to the chief and spoke sharply in yet another language, though Alanna felt as though she knew it, somehow. It was like a half forgotten melody sung to you when you were young.

The chief looked in fury to his warrior and spat something out, the warriors who heard flinching and shuffling away from their comrade. The warrior clenched his jaw and stared straight at the chief, he answered and then looked quickly away from the rage in his leaders eyes. Sipping her juice Alanna wondered what was going on.

The Captain and the chief conferred for a moment and then shook hands. The chief ordered his warriors and Blair barked, "Get on the ship." The sailors quickly followed his orders, gathering their strewn belongings and making for the dock. Blair's eyes roamed until he came across Alanna, sitting against the wall, balancing a near empty plate and a juice. She was watching the proceedings in amusement and interest, the demeanour similar to a child when it was in a new place.

Lyn came up behind him and looked in his direction, "We may have a problem."

Blair turned his head slightly, "Yes?"

"She was at the ceremony, "Blair nearly choked on his own breath.

"How do you know?" he asked in a hushed voice as Alanna heard him and turned to smile sleepily at him.

"Look at her gift, "Lyn answered in despair. Blair did as he asked, calling to his own magic and flinched at what he saw. The air round the girl glowed purple and a trail of purple specks lifted up into the trees before snaking in the direction of the grove.

"Do you think she has even noticed?' he asked his Mage.

Lyn shook his head, "Magic like this... she will have no idea, no knowledge on how to defend herself..." He trailed off and glared at the forbidding mountains he knew were in the darkness.

Blair gritted his teeth and turned away from the slowly dying girl to look his Mage in the face. 'You argued her life for a reason, at the time I let it be, but now I want to know why." He informed his old friend and teacher.

Lyn looked at his half brother straight in the eye and sighed, "She is a God's chosen, that alone would be worth bargaining her life."

Blair inclined his head, accepting his brothers point, "Go on."

Lyn moistened his lips, "But I know that isn't a valid reason for you. The other reason is because... she has been touched by a Tahakén Prince."

Blair straightened and frowned, "You're sure?"

"The green magic wasn't her own and I have seen it before. It belongs to-"

"Raku," Blair finished for him.

Lyn nodded, "Yes. He gave her a sizeable amount of his gift, I don't think she even knew, and he only has ever done that once..."

Blair rubbed his chin and nodded slowly.

"These facts on their own would be worth her life, "Lyn continued, "But together..., there must have been a reason she came to us of all people. To you especially..." he trailed off and made to say something else, but held his tongue.

Blair turned back to Alanna, to find her slumped against the wall, her face pale and her breathing shallow. "Get her on the ship," he snarled as he strode towards the forest, Lyn nodded and hurried for his apprentice. His Captains next words made him freeze in shock, 'Put her in my room and erase her memory of what she saw." Lyn pivoted and searched for his brother in the forest but he couldn't see him. Returning his attention to the unconscious redhead he lifted her easily and carried her swiftly back to the Dawn, breaking into a run when he felt Alanna slipping into the well that was death.

His booted footsteps alerted the crew to his arrival and they were out of his way as he rushed down into the belly of the ship. He was given strange looks as he carried Alanna down into the quarters of the Captain and opened the door, careful not to knock her head on the doorframe. Once inside he felt powerful magic swamp him and he continued hesitantly forward, passing into the private space of the Captain. When he reached the door to the Captains room the barriers became almost impossible to move through and he had to halt because he couldn't move any further forward.

Alanna stirred in his arms and he knew the magic in the ship was beginning to combat that of the magic affecting her. Lyn looked down at her and then at the door, focusing all his energy he forced it open and then, with the remainder of his strength he lifted Alanna and hurled her into the room. Exhausted he stumbled back away from the door as it slammed shut and the magic forced him backwards. He sat panting in a chair regaining his strength as the magical presence in the room faded back but he felt it watching him, waiting for him to make a false move.

Lyn was falling into sleep when he felt the magic disappear, a hand on his shoulder awakened him further and when the hand offered him a glass of whiskey he jerked to alertness. Blair shuffled over to the other chair and sat, exhaustion etched on his face. "You look like... like you've awoken in a barn after a hard night of drinking and have no idea where you are."

Blair nodded and took a swig of the whisky, gasping as it burnt his throat. "Yeah, I'm feeling that way."

Lyn downed his glass and got to his feet, it wouldn't be wise to ask what had left his brother in such a state. "I couldn't get into your room, so I dropped her on the floor." He explained as he shambled to the door.

Blair inclined his head, "I'm surprised you got that far." He stated, nonchalantly. Lyn blinked, he was too old for tests especially tests from his younger brother and he told Blair so. A soft smile crossed the captain's face and he nodded slowly, "Yeah, sorry about that."

Lyn shook his head as he let himself out, he really was getting to old for this.

With the morning tide, three hours after sun up the Crimson Dawn slowly sailed down the lake and out into the river. Alanna sat on the bowsprit her legs dangling towards the waves and watched as small fish leaped before the bow before disappearing in flashes of silver into the sapphire waters.

She was exhausted but she didn't know why, Lyn told her it was the aftermath of her several mile run keeping up with cantering horses, but that had been days ago and she was sure she was fine yesterday. Maybe she was getting sick. Shaking her head she thought back to the morning, when she had awoken, in a strange bed and in a strange room. Her skull had felt like it was being crushed and her body felt like lead, she had cautiously sat up and looked about her. The room was bare but for the essentials; a bed and desk and a small wardrobe in the corner.

The room was painted white and a small breeze blew virgin curtains gently into the room. Alanna inhaled deeply and slumped back into the pillows. A breeze was coming into the room; jerking upright Alanna immediately regretted it as her head roared and her skull pounding. Snarling against the pain she fought her nausea and stumbled over to the window, fearing she wouldn't make it.

She leaned out the window with her eyes closed and panted, trying to still her raging stomach. The soft lull of waves crashing onto a sandy beach met her ears and the salty air tickled her taste buds. Straightening Alanna looked before her in wonder and incredulously as she took the scene before her. A long white beach stretched into the horizon to her left and right and sapphire waves reared then crashed onto the sands before fingers of water drew back into the main body.

The sun glowed brilliantly in the sky and dolphins leap from the sea and into the air, a small breeze rolled off the waves and across the beach.

Her bare feet padded across the floorboards and she exited the room into burning sunlight, the glare off the sand making her cover her eyes. Wind hit her and ran tendrils through her hair and clothes and Alanna tilted her face to the warmth of the sun.

Digging in her toes she laughed as grains of sand tickled her skin and bought her hand to her head in wonder. Gazing around she saw a figure leaning against a tall skinny tree watching her. Blinking she wandered over to meet him her feet scuffing through the sand.

Captain Blair gazed at her squarely, his muscles well defined through his tunic and Alanna could halt the envy that flooded her. "Where am- what is this place?" she asked in awe, her amethyst eyes wide. Blair smiled and gazed around him with a look Alanna had never seen directed at her, fondness, like that of a parent watching a successful child.

"This is my... Lavaruax Aroa... my Dream State, " at Alanna's blank look he frowned, "My perfect world, um..what I want.." He seemed to be at loss for words and Alanna, feeling sorry for him, spoke.

"So, its like your perfect ah... home?"

"Yes!, Blair cut in excitedly, "Exactly like that." As his excitement grew so did his voice and he was booming by the time he had finished. "I designed every grain of sand to every drop of water. The animals though, they _are _real, but if this place," he gestured around him, were to be destroyed, or if I were killed, they would die."

Alanna frowned, this broke all the laws of magic she knew, "So everyone can have once of these... Dream States?"

Blair shook his head sharply, "No, you have to have the training and the proficient gift to keep it in the same state, and only Masters of both Magic and Mind can have animals in it."

Alanna was confused, "Keep in the same state?"

Blair ran his fingers through his hair, "Yeah, um like if you were to mould...sand...You would make the sculpture but if you turned away it would deteriorate, the same is with this, you have to keep it perfect all the time."

Alanna nodded, she now confirmed what she had guessed, Blair was a powerful mage. As though he could read her thoughts the Captain sighed, "I wish I was proficient enough to have animals though..." Alanna looked at him curiously and pointed to the dolphins leaping from the waves.

The Captain shook his head sadly, "They are real, but this place isn't entirely mine... but it is. I don't know how to explain... It's like my inheritance... yes that is right. My inheritance."

Alanna nodded, just like Trebond is hers, or was, "That makes sense."

Blair nodded and reached into his tunic. A small pouch was thrown at her and she caught it before it hit the ground and at the Captains nod she opened it. Glittering coins met her and she looked up puzzled.

"The payment for the damage to the tavern, you didn't have to do that."

Alanna shrugged, "I was hungry and figured Lariasha would be in a better mood if I paid her for the damage." She flashed a small smile and Blair shook his head in amusement.

"Come on, "he said in response to her stomachs loud protest, "Let's get some grub." He led the way over the sand and back into the bed-room and through a closed door and into a large living space. Alanna blanched at the size of the room and her confusion must have been evident on her face because Blair smiled and looked around him.

"Many of the rooms onboard are special, magical, "he explained, "the rooms more often than not do not fit the dimensions."

Alanna looked about her and nodded, certain she must be dreaming. This wasn't possible. The room was large and long. It held a fireplace (which was lit) several large and long chairs that looked extremely comfortable with a big bearskin rug in the centre. To the closest wall was a large book case, large enough to challenge even her father's personal bookcase and next to it was a large cabinet full of alcohol.

Dotted all around the room were stuffed...beings... creatures she had only ever heard of in legend and some that she had seen before but increased _greatly_ in size, such as the giant wolf that was sitting before the fire and the great cat that was looking adamantly at a mural of the ocean on the far wall. Alanna looked at it for a moment, at the beautiful shades of blue that seemed to waver and shift and move by and the sandy ocean floor that had patches of coral.

Then Alanna gasped and quickly moved to the window to press her nose against the glass as a pod of dolphins swam mast. It wasn't a mural! It was the actual sea!

She turned excitedly to question Blair to find him standing right behind her. He nodded to some of the schools of fish that darted away from the vessel as it intruded through their waters. "Those are some tuna, and that right there is a barracuda, nasty little buggers, " he instructed, "don't ever eat one. They have bad bugs in their flesh."

Alanna nodded wide eyed as they passed more fish and creatures of the sea she had never seen before.

"Wanna see something else cool?' Blair asked looking at her. She nodded and followed him, as he left the room and opened another door down the hallway, moving with the rolling of the ship. It said storage room on it and Alana was puzzled as to why they would be entering a storage hold. The storage room was what to be expected on a ship of the suns size, it held many barrels of alcohol and held racks of dried food. It was nothing out of the ordinary and Alanna turned to Blair, a single eyebrow raised.

The Captain grinned and clapped his hands, there was a clinking and then the floorboards began to shake and creak and groan. Alanna jumped back as the deck slid back to reveal a whole big enough to hold several knights chargers in full battle armour and out of the darkness a part of decking rose. Blair stepped onto it and gestured for Alanna to do the same, she did so, cautiously and was surprised to feel the deck stand firm beneath her, it was as though the deck hadn't just arisen from the darkness. Smirking, the Captain barked a word and the plank slowly slid back down into the hull of the ship. "This is it," his enthusiasm was catching but still Alanna was weary. She followed as he walked off the moving plank and into the darkness. Torches sparked then lit as they came closer and by the time Alanna was next to the halted captain the entire room was lit.

His hulking frame stood before a pile of runes of different sizes on the wall, Alanna was puzzled, why go to all this trouble to have a small room with only one entrance and exit. Blair nodded to the ruins and gestured for her to walk through.

Alanna wearily eyed the wall, but did as she was bid. Slowly sliding her feet forward, her legs and body following after he got closer to the door. The strangest thing happened when she got close, the runes began to glow and then expand to the same size. Alanna froze but a glance back at the amused Captain told her to keep going. Her hunger forgotten for now she crept closer until she was inches away from the wall. She frowned and reached out with her hand, as her index finger reached the wall the wall opened for a size big enough to fit her fingers, then her palm and then her elbow as she moved her arm forward. She withdrew her hand and the hole closed up, she examined her hand and then thrust it at the wall again, it disappeared.

Blair came up behind her and Alanna watched as the wall or doorway, for that was what the runes were, opened to fit the giant form of the Captain as he walked through. Alanna blinked then hastened to follow him.

Blair stood at before a pedestal and was flicking the pages of a book. He paused at one and then reached for the ink well on the pedestal. A rune formed, as he wrote, in the beam of white light in front of him. It glowed amber and had ribbons of red streaking through it, several runes branched off it until it formed a mass of runes wound together stretching over the light but leaving a rectangle free. The size of a door. Blair walked down the steps and around to the door he gripped the handle of gold that formed and looked for Alanna. She walked up to him and glanced at the door, the rolling of the ship was almost un noticeable this far into the ship and Alanna felt like she was on land.

Blair smiled at her and then, he opened the door. Lush green grass stretched for several miles and was about a mile wide. A small stream lapped against the banks before pooling out onto some sand, following the crystal water to its source Alanna saw a small waterfall, and snakes of liquid fell down moss covered rocks. Horses grazed beneath great trees that stretched forward to the heavens and some were playing like foals in the sunshine.

"They-They, "Alanna began.

'Yes, 'Blair answered, "These horses are the ones were purchased from the chief. They are perfectly encaged with enough food and water to last about a year. Sometimes it will rain and other times a gale will blow, all such elements that we can control if we wish. This particular room has served us very well; it will regenerate by the time we want to reuse it."

Alanna's jaw was hanging and her eyes wide in wonder and disbelief.

Blair shook his head as he closed the door and left the horses to their grazing, "Yeah I know it's impossible. I get that all the time with every newbie."

Alanna followed the Captain in a daze up and out of the hold and onto the main hallway. "Magic is limitless, "Blair stated as he opened the door to the mess hall.

Alanna blinked as she was jerked back to the present by a large spray of water into her face. Yes, Alanna decided, magic was limitless, especially on the Dawn.

**Authors Note:**

**Sorry about the wait, due to unexpected circumstances I am once again BETAless. So I'll be looking around for someone suitable in the next few days.**

**LKAON**: Thank you I hope you feel like that, I hope everyone feels like that.

**ZuliaGirl: **Yeah, kind of the exact same situation: funny though because I never thought of it like that... I had/have more devious plans mwahahahahaha :D

**NigerUnda: **Go away: I am NOT giving you my Beta position! Besides, you already know what happens :'(

**sajtm: **Really couldn't be bothered to type out your name, no offence. We will be seeing Raku soon, very soon... but you might not like it ... :D

**As always REVIEW! How come I only have 48! That is not acceptable! :D Lol**

**Regards, CDL**


	18. To Tortall! and Tahaken

_*I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear.*_  
** Nelson Mandela**

The prisoner was dragged from the hull, lashing and kicking. The First Mate snarled at him to shut his trap before it was shut for him. The prisoner ignored him and tried to escape the fate he knew awaited him. Blair stood at the helm watching the proceedings with professional disinterest and the second mate waited with a long rope, his face impassive. Some of the crew were laughing and joking as they placed bets, on what Alanna did not know. Lyn stood next to her as she watched the prisoner being dragged towards the stern of the ship. His face showed disgust mingled with horror and his jaw was set.

Alanna recognised the slave; he was the one who had started the Tavern fight at El'Midador, Alanna hadn't seen him since that night but she had listened to the talk of the crew and had discovered the Chief had sold the warrior to Blair in exchange for his forgiveness of the shame he had bought upon the tribe.

Basically, the warrior was now a slave and could never return to the islands, ever. He was the Captains to do with whatever he wished. And the Captain of the Crimson Dawn had decided to sacrifice the slave warrior to the Goddess of the sea, Oinomi Wavewalker. Alanna was unsure as to how the sacrifice would be made, but in shark infested icy waters, she could guess.

The second mate bound the prisoner around the wrists and ankles as well as tying the ankles to the wrists. Then a cord was tied to the slave, efficiently wrapping him in a coffin of rope, the rope was secured to the ship.

The second mate then assisted the first in blessing the offering and painting symbols onto his skin. Alanna flinched when the slave was dragged to the stern and thrown into the icy waters. His screams were muffled as he sank into the ocean, then the rope snapped taunt and the warrior could be seen screaming through the waves. The miles went by and the crew placed more bets, Blair watched silently and Lyn simmered as they crossed into warmer waters.

Alanna watched in horror as a great black fin cut through the white water behind the prisoner. The crew yelled excitedly and clapped each other on the back, calling out further bets. Unable to tear her eyes away, Alanna froze as a second large fin joined the first. Then it disappeared, along with the first fin. The crew peered into the water in anger and began cursing the Goddess.

The Captains face snapped towards them and the fury etched on its face made Alanna quail in fear. He opened his mouth to bellow at the crew when suddenly he turned towards the sacrifice. The water exploded around a great body as it launched itself from the depths. The shark twisted in mid air and came down hard on the sacrifice. The slave screamed in terror and began to thrash harder against his binds. The fin appeared again and then dragged the sacrifice into the depths. Through the cheers and yells of the crew Alanna swore she heard Blair mutter, "Mother, I hope you are pleased."

Alanna frowned; the sacrifice was to the Goddess of the Ocean... Alanna looked to Blair in wonder; he was a Demi-God! That explained a lot she realised as she appraised him. The ageless look in his ocean blue eyes, the way he carried himself on the vessel, how he seemed to know everything about the ocean and its inhabitants and it also explained the Dream State Blair said was his inheritance. His mother, Oinomi Wavewalker, must have made it for him and given it the power and concentration to hold animals in it. Now she understood, the Captain feared nothing of the sea, because he was born of the sea, he was a brother to the sea.

Captain Blair, son of Oinomi Wavewalker, felt her eyes on him and looked in her direction. He visibly blanched when he saw the awe and wonder in her eyes, then he calmed and held a finger to his lips, flashing her a pearl-white smile. Alanna grinned at him and nodded sharply, she would keep his secret.

Later that night Alanna crouched before the hearth in her room, her gift glowing on her fingers. After docking in a small cove within the arms of an unchartered, uninhabitable island, Alanna had gone in search of Lyn. She had found him supervising the preparation of a hunter-gathered crew. The group planned to go for a hunt, she was to find out later that what they were hunting wasn't exactly a traditional beast, and Lyn was making sure the magical devices they were to carry were able to function. Each member of the hunting party had a belt with three globes on it, one gave the wearer the exact location of every other wearer, and another allowed all the group to talk to each other by holding on to it and the final globe is a medical globe. If the wearer released the globe it would float high above the wounded and beam a light until it was retrieved when other globe wearers arrived to help the wounded.

Alanna waited impatiently while Lyn did his final checks and then hurriedly intercepted him as he entered the hold. "Lyn, "she called as she approached. The Sailor Mage turned to face her, a smile greeting her.

"Alanna, "he rumbled, "What can I do for you?"

Alanna stooped in front of him and looked up into his friendly face. "I was wondering, "she began, "If it is possible to scry someone, but like, move around with them...," she trailed off unsure how to voice what she wanted.

Lyn thought for a moment, "Like to be in the room and to follow them? To hear what they say? To appear to them?"

Alanna nodded eagerly, that was exactly what she wanted. Rubbing his jaw the sailor looked thoughtful, "I will have a look at some books I barely recall and lend them to you, "he instructed, "you will have to make the spell yourself though."

At Alanna's mortified look he smiled, 'Fear not little one, you are fully capable of such a task yourself." Alanna nodded, mute.

Yes, she had come far since being taken under the elder mage's wing and she had continuously met and gone above Lyn's expectations, but she was still terrified of her gift, especially the feeling that flooded her afterward. She didn't know if she could do it, without her teachers assistance and assurance when she was about to try a difficult step.

Most would consider it a plus to realise that their gift had grown stronger, but Alanna grew more and more cautious as she realised it was growing, it must have been the ship. Lyn had suggested it before; Alanna had scoffed and brushed it aside, but now was beginning to wonder if he was in fact correct. She also privately thought it was because of Blair as well, he was a Demi-God living on the spirit of his life, the ocean; his power would only be limited by his ability and the amount of ocean magic he could control.

When Lyn bought over several scrolls and books from the library it took Alanna several long minutes before she gathered the courage to read them. She started on the scroll Lyn had suggested first_, The Basics of Scrying for the Apprentice Mage_, Alanna had initially sneered at the thought of reading such a novice article, but common sense told her Lyn had never had her do or read anything she wouldn't learn from, so she began to read. It took her an hour to master the steps the scroll suggested to efficient scrying and she was pleasantly surprised. She had thought she knew all there was too simple scrying, but she was mistaken and made a mental note to go through the library and read all she could, she was willing to learn.

Next she blew the dust from the cover of an incredibly old, she could tell so by the wear on the pages and the faded flowing script, book. Alanna gazed with interest at the title, _The art of concealed possession. _She eagerly turned the page and was immediately absorbed in the letters written across the page. The letters merged as Alanna turned the pages and strained her eyes trying to read faster, she was barely aware when she used her gift to light the room as it began to darken.

As she turned the final page Alanna mentally kicked herself and swore violently, judging by how much the logs had burned she had been reading for well over three hours and had not yet learnt anything that could aid her in scrying, though she was sure she possess almost anyone she came across with what she had just learnt.

About to close the page in despair and retire for the night, or morning, her eyes snagged on a paragraph. _Possession is usually without consent and is considered immoral for most races and many Magical Academies will usually banish any member found practicing such craft. However, some facilities, such as Tahakén, encourage or reward such disregard to others rights. This author does not recommend Possession, only under extreme circumstances._

Tahakén, there was that word again. So it was a place_,_ Alanna mused as she closed the book and set it on the table with a sigh. She had discovered nothing and the stiffness in her entire body told her she had been still for too long and should sleep.

Alanna decided to relent to the temptation from her bed and scraped her chair back. She stood swiftly, her muscles protesting, and turned when an incredibly thin sheet of parchment blew from the pages of a book. Alanna turned back and glared at it for a moment before swooping down to pluck it from the floorboards. It had come from the _Art of concealed possession_ book, that was strange. She had gone through everyone of the pages and had never seen a spare sheet of paper lying around. Frowning she turned the paper over and read the title, _Ghosting._ What was Ghosting? Alanna didn't know, but she was interested in finding out.

Settling back into the chair she peered at the faded ink. It was a soft and faded brown, barely readable against the yellow and curling edges. Carefully, as though it would crumble in her hands, she flattened it and called a candle light to her palm. She held the light over the scroll and tried to turn the scroll so she could read it. It was no good, the symbols wouldn't show themselves, maybe they would in better light. Real light.

Alanna rubbed her neck and leaned back, her eyes drooping. That was enough for tonight, she was ready for bed. Standing she shuffled closer to the table, too tired to push the chair back any further. In her tiredness she stumbled and flung her arm out to catch herself. The tender flesh of her forearm came down upon a rusted clasp of the _Art of concealed Posession _book and blood welled from the wound over the table. Alanna sat on the floor boards quickly, fighting back a wave of nausea. Breathing deeply she sent her mind into meditation and after a few moments she was able to open her eyes and look at the wound, she winched when she saw it. A long and deep gash stretched from her wrist up to her elbow, blood gushed from the wound and Alanna frowned.

Reaching for the ball of amethyst fire that prowled beneath her skin, bearing her teeth against the pain she sent her Gift to her arm and allowed it to seep there for a while. Purple threads slowly crept across the face of the cut and drew the wound together. Then healing magic entered the tissue and began to repair the damage. Alanna released her gift and leaned against the table while she waited for her mind to regain control of her body and then got to her feet. The pain had momentarily banished her weariness and her thought process restarted.

When she turned to the table she froze in shock and fear. Her blood had spilled over the _Ghosting_ scroll and instead of staining it red, something opposite had happened. Old and almost un-repairable parchment had vanished; in its place lay a pure white sheet, as fresh as the day it had been made. The ink in flowing script was as red as blood and the corners were tinged in gold. It looked very expensive and Alanna was almost afraid to touch it. But she did so and as she ran her fingers down the page she realised the ink wasn't ink at all, it was blood, her blood. Somehow the scroll was written in blood and the magic leaking from the symbols made her nose itch.

Moistening her lips she began to read, the symbols, previously unreadable and undecipherable began to make sense. The runes formed into shapes she understood, within her mind the runes began to change into normal letters.

_Originally I thought to call this spell _Haunting_, but to Haunt is to disturb, and to purposely unsettle one or many persons for fun or as an act of revenge. Such petty behaviour is not my original, and still is not, my purpose for such a spell. The spells use is to almost transport one's self to another area, either in the next room or to the opposite end of the world and have the senses remain as accurate as they are in normal time. The occupants in the room will or will not know you are there, the decision remains yours, you cannot be seen nor heard, unless you wish. You are also without substance, extensive Gift and experience will allow normal form to be taken but most users will find the easier functions of the spell adequate. You, the user, will be able to see and hear anything and everything said in the area around you as though you are actually there. _

_The following instructions will allow for _Ghosting, _named so because unlike Haunting, ghosts watch and listen. _

Within Alanna's mind the symbols flew from one to another and her mind remembered the instructions even as her eyes continued to scan more. Eventually the basics were covered, followed by the more complicated steps and finally, the hardest parts along with an extra paragraph discussing the difficulties of taking the form of your body and of being able to touch something.

At the end of the scroll, so small Alanna almost missed it, there was an inscription and Alanna smiled as she read it. It was time to do some scrying.

Crouching Alanna called her Gift to her fingers and tossed a large portion of it into the fireplace. Violet flames hungrily climbed into the air until a wall of fire strained against the binds of the fireplace. Calling forth the image of her previous night's dream Alanna muttered the incantation, her excitement outweighing her apprehension.

An image formed in the fire and the sound of sobbing could be heard faintly. Alanna reached out her hand as the scene grew sharper and the sounds intensified and when her fingers caressed the fire she was inhaled into the fire. She was prepared, the book had explained what should happen and Alanna inhaled the fire as it swamped her body, ignoring the impulse to flee. Flames tickled her throat as the inferno spread through her body and the burning began to get uncomfortable. She was prepared for the burning, the manuscript had explained, but she wasn't prepared for the pain that increased as the fire within her got hotter. She grit her teeth against the pain and held back the scream she knew was coming. As the fire got to hot she opened her mouth to scream and then she exploded. Not literally of course, but magically.

The fire hijacked her Gift and twisted it into a shape, and then it burst through her skin, drawing her gift with it and dashed across the surface of the ocean, invisible to non-magic users. Reaching land the wave rolled up the beach and two forelegs grew from the surf, followed by a muscular body and eventually a long tail. The Gift-stallion dew itself together and charged across the surface of the earth, within its heart Alanna watched as the towns merged with forests and lakes with mountains as the Gift-horse speed for the direct rout towards a girl with brown hair and soft green eyes. Anya.

The room was small and dark, hardly a room at all, more like a cupboard. Alanna hovered in the air above Anya, not really in a form but still being. She was like veils of mist, purple mist just ghosting above Anya as she cried. Alanna's heart lurched and she wished she had a form so she could at least hold her, or just appear to her. Growling in frustration she could only watch as Anya's cries turned to sobs and then her sobs to exhausted sleep.

Snarling she stalked the room above while Anya thrashed in her sleep and tried to force the mists that were her being into a form so she could walked around. Her efforts grew more rage filled as she failed and she began to force her gift to control the mist, not the other way around. It fought her, just like the magic had the day she saved Jonathan's life from the sweating sickness, but she gritted her teeth and forced her magic over the mists. Her gift faltered and then evaporated and Alanna was flung back from the fire, she stumbled back across the animal skins to slam against the bottom of her bed. Wincing in pain she held her head and staggered up onto her bed, exhausted mentally and magically. Her gift had been drained and as of now she was too tired to figure out how and why. As her face was swamped by her soft pillows she fell into a dreamless sleep.

As the Crimson Dawn cut through the waters the crew peered through the veils of mist in search of a survivor among the bodies. Blair stood next to his younger brother his arms folded as they passed further into the wreckage of a ship. Beside him Lyn surveyed the damage with growing apprehension, though to the outside he looked calm and in control. Lyn suddenly stiffened and jerked his head once, like a sparrow, to the Captain. Blair took a great breath and drew himself up.

He snapped his fingers and lifted his axe slowly until the handle was leaning against his leg, within easy distance of his twitching fingers. The First Mate who heard his snap nodded and slipped between the crew, muttering softly. The members dispersed and weapons were slowly and silently lifted on deck and positions were taken. As still as statues the crew waited for the instruction and for the unseen enemy to appear through the hands of mist.

Suddenly Blair lifted his great axe into defensive position, next to him Lyn gasped and the crew drew weapons. Small waves from the motion of the ships passing lapped gently at the biggest gathering of wood and twirled around the cloak of the body lying on the piece of decking. Through the mist the vessel looked as though it had been ripped apart, pieces of planking were slashed in half, the sails were ripped beyond recognition as sails and the contents of the ships were sprawled on the surface of the sea, including the former crew.

Blair turned to Lyn, "Get Alanna," he instructed quietly, Lyn nodded and jerked his head to the Second Mate. The Mate cocked his head as though listening to a whisper before disappearing silently down the hatch and into the hull.

As the Dawn got closed to the body on the plank Blair tightened his grip on his axe and Lyn pulled back his sleeves in preparation for magic use. When the waves from the ship rolled over the face the crew recoiled as eyes snapped open. "Steady," Blair bellowed as the figure stood calmly and faced them. The mist parted like the wind when the figure raised his arms and he rose slowly into the air, wind snapping his coal clothes around him, banishing the water. Pushing back a cloak the crew were meet with frosty green eyes and shortly cropped brown hair.

"Raku," Blair hissed, his eyes never leaving the shamed Tahakén Princes'. A small smile crept into the side of Raku's face.

"Blair", he nodded.

The Captain moistened his lips, "What do you want?"

Raku sighed and walked forward, across the air towards the Crimson Dawn. The crew blanched and gripped their weapons with pale hands and glanced to the Captain for instruction. He lowered his axe and leaned it on the railing. Cautiously the crew sheathed their weapons but remained tense ready for action. Raku looked to them in amusement, "Keep those toys away. I am a Tahakén Prince, you possess no threat." The crew were all hardened men but the mention of Tahakén always sent them on edge and the few times they had docked there they had been jumpy all night but to meet one of the Princes was too much. Some bowed immediately and remained on their knees, others turned pale and fled beneath deck knowing they would be punished later, if they survived. Only the Captain and his half brother remained on their feet, though looking closely fear could be seen in their eyes.

"What do I want, "Raku drawled as he walked down the air as though he were on a staircase and onto the deck. "I want a great many things, and, unlike most, I can have those things. Anything I want essentially." He said with disdain, but then his eyes focused on Blair and he was furious. 'But what I cannot get is redemption." He paused and then turned slightly to watch as a red-haired girl followed a bury solder up onto the deck. "Alanna, "he rumbled, almost to himself.

Her purple eyes widened and she looked at him in shock, "Raku?" she asked hesitantly. Raku turned to Blair and Lyn snarled, he had a feeling he knew what Raku wanted. "Actually, " he smirked, "what I want is _her_," he pointed a gloved hand towards Alanna. The Second Mate growled and positioned himself in front of Alanna, weapon drawn. Blair tensed and his fingers strayed towards his axe before reluctantly resting at his side. Lyn frowned and prepared himself mentally for death, he couldn't hope to compete with Raku, but he would try.

Alanna looked from Raku to Blair and back again, bewilderment clear on her face. Raku scowled, "Let me make your option clear," he hissed, 'I either drag her from the carnage that will shortly be your vessel or you give her to me." Seeing no reaction from Blair he growled, "Now!"

Timidly, the remainder of the crew that had fled trooped back up on deck, taking stances alongside the Second Mate. The sailors that were kneeling cautiously got to their feet and moved alongside Alanna and her guards. The Second Mate was more respected and liked than the first, and if he was willing to risk his life for the girl then they would to, even though they were terrified.

Raku's scowl deepened as the stalemate was clear and he stared Blair down.

"No, "the silence was deafening and Raku blinked in shock, had Blair just disobeyed an order?

Gritting his teeth Raku barked, "So be it" and called to his gift. The sailors tensed and readied their weapons.

"No, wait!" Alanna pushed though the sailors, determination on her face. "You never asked me what I want, "she said coming to a halt between Blair and Lyn and Raku. Raku looked at her in surprise; it had never occurred to him that the girl would actually _want_ to come with him. Blair looked annoyed, "Go below deck", he ordered.

Alanna looked as though he had slapped her in the face, "Excuse me, she gasped, her voice squeaking in outrage. "I am _not_ to be ordered about like some soft-soft noble Lady!'

Raku could barely contain his amusement, that was the Alanna he had briefly come to know. She stood hands on hips glaring daggers at the most famous villain of the seas who was not only two or three times higher than her, he was also about as wide as she was tall.

Blair's jaw tightened, "Go below deck now." Alanna glared at him and then turned to Raku.

'If I go with you, you will let them go?" she asked gesturing to the crew and vessel. Raku appraised her for a moment, green eyes still.

Then he nodded slowly, "You come with me and they are free to go". Alanna looked at him for a moment, trying to decide whether to believe him or not and then realised she didn't really have a choice. "Okay," her answer was short and precise.

Blair growled and strode down from the wheel and stood before Alanna in fury. "No, "he snarled, "You do not know what he," he spat the word at Raku, "and his are about!" Blair towered over her and jabbed her with a callused finger. "They hold values that only the Goddess Chaos would support, they are-"

"Please, "Alanna cut him off, "I am only one life for all the lives here." Blair fell silent and looked down at her for what seemed like hours as Raku shifted impatiently.

Eventually Blair sighed and placed his hands on her shoulders and swooped down to her level. "Thank you, " he said quietly his voice sincere, "If there is ever anything you need, write it to the sea and I will come."

Alanna smiled sadly up at him, "Thanks, I will remember." She shifted away from him and walked towards Raku, then she pivoted, "Actually, there _is_ something you can do for me."

She quickly explained what she wanted and Blair nodded and clasped his fist to his heart, "It will be done."

Alanna smiled softly at him again and then walked slowly over to Raku. The Tahakén Prince enclosed her in his cloak and then they were gone, vanished. Several of the crew rushed to the railing trying to find them, but no trace would or could be seen.

Captain Blair ordered the crew to return to their posts and wandered to the bowsprit distractedly. He remained staring off into the distance for the remainder of the day and at dusk he shook himself and turned, "To Merath!, he announced before retreating down into the hull.

Guards on the wall cautiously eyed the approaching vessel before reluctantly allowing it entrance into the harbour. All occupants of the harbour turned and watched silently as the ship slowly drifted into the dock. The Crimson sails were folded up but the glass ebony hull, deck and mast gave face to the identity of the vessel even before the inscription etched into the stern. The Crimson Dawn docked neatly and a gangplank was placed between the ship and the Warf and the sailors lifted great chests from the ship.

A man that could only be the Captain marched up the docks and to the Harbour Master. He tossed a pouch to the flustered man and continued forward. Sailors' followed him proudly as he stalked into the local port tavern. Other sailors piled the goods in an area and waited; several sailors disappeared back into the Crimson Dawn and returned leading several great horses. The horses snorted and strained against their tether as they were led onto the dock and up to the waiting sailors.

The Captain appeared from the tavern and barked an order; a sailor ran over to the gathering sailors and accompanied another sailor back to the Captain. Merchants gathered around the sailors and began to look through the opened chests, messengers galloped towards the palace in haste and women eyed the sailors from a distance. Captain Blair straightened his tunic and strode off towards the town stable, towns folk training at a distance and grubby street children ran between the crowds. The Stable owner blanched when he saw the big sailors and even bigger captain approaching. He quickly rubbed his hands and tried to straighten his dirty clothes.

The Captain looked around him in distaste before focusing on the flustered owner, "I want seven of your fastest horses with complete tack and gear," he rumbled folding his arms. The Horseman turned and quickly bellowed to the stable boys who rushed to collect suitable mounts for the large men. "I'll sell them back to you when I return," Blair added, his tone gave no room for argument. The stable owner nodded, eager to please the famous Captain.

Licking his lips the Stableman named a sum, far below what he could sell the mounts for, but he dared not anger the Captain, or his big crew. The Captain stared at the shorter man before silently reaching into his tunic and tossed two pouches at him. He turned and checked his mounts tack before mounting, he didn't want to risk the humiliation of a lose girth, unlike his crew that all sat like a sack of potatoes on their horses.

Nudging his horse forward he rose to the trot before asking for a canter, his crew _would_ keep up. Cantering up the rise towards the Palace they passed a group of riders pushing hard for the docks, the banner of a snake twisted around a skull waving out behind them. The Captain and his crew moved to the side to allow the group of King's men, and the King himself, to pass. Blair watched them go, a foul taste in his mouth, for one who listened to the whispers in the dark he knew the newly crowned King had taken the throne by less than civil methods. Rather, he had paid to have the ruling King, Queen and newly born heir murdered so he could claim the throne.

"Cap'n?" The First Mate asked as he tried to urge his horse closer. Blair looked at him before frowning in the direction of the King of Merath.

The horsemen rode, somewhat badly, for the remainder of the day until they approached a fief with a banner of a star over a tower. Blair called a halt at the gate, aware of the eyes and arrows upon him.

"We wish audience with your Master, " he called up to the ramparts.

The guards clad in red and purple looked to each other before one yelled down at him. Blair frowned at this mans arrogance and drew himself up. He called to his gift and roared, "I am the Captain of the Crimson Dawn, formally the Red Sun and I wish an audience with your Lord!," the guards recoiled from the wall, "and if you do not let me in, I will let myself in!" Guards hurriedly opened the gates and Blair led his crew into the castle. The First Mate hissed, "Eyes open, "as they passed beneath the guards and into the courtyard. Men slowly walked from the barracks in various states of attire and watched as the crew dismounted and looked about them.

A small bald slave scurried forward and bowed submissively before speaking in hushed tones, "Nobility, Master will see you in resting room. Slave will lead, "before scuttling back through the doors. Blair looked to his five crew members, "Guard the horses, "he ordered, "Any sign of trouble give us a yell." The crew nodded and the First Mate followed Blair into the castle.

The Lord and his Lady were relaxing in leather chairs and sipping juice out in the sun. Slave girls were waving fans over their owners and some held trays of fruit. When the Lord saw Blair he visibly blanched and almost choked on his juice. The Lady eyed the big Captain and his First Mate with approval and failed at trying to seduce them with strawberries.

Blair took the offered seat and leaned back, watching the Lord watch him. His companion took the offered chair and easily helped himself to the fruit and juice upon the table. Blair initiated the conversation after several terse minutes, "I am here for one reason," he began and the Lord paled, "and I am not leaving until I get what I want."

The Lord nodded eagerly and snapped his fingers for a slave, "What is it that you want?"

"A slave, "Blair answered calmly.

The Lord looked up and began to feel more relaxed, he could handle this. "Ah, well, "he began, "I have many slaves and they are very valuable to-''

"Cut the horse shit, "Blair interrupted and the Lord quailed, "The slave girl I want you purchased at the Cornith Slave Market."

The Lord paled, "Um, well. She is no longer in my possession," he said cautiously. Blair raised an eyebrow and Lord Francis hurriedly continued, "She escaped when the former rulers were killed, rest their souls. I paid an incredible amount for her and-"

Blair sighed and leaned forward, "Not that slave," he hissed as he lowered his glass of juice, "the other girl slave. The one called Anya, I believe."

Lord Francis relaxed, "Ah, I do know the slave you are speaking of". He snapped his fingers and gave instructions to the bald slave before turning back to the Captain.

Blair narrowed his eyes, people such as Francis didn't know individual slaves, they were all nameless and faceless unless they were somehow special or used for a special purpose. Straightening the Captain suddenly became imposing and watched the Lord through dangerous eyes. Lord Francis began to sweat and his hand shook as he raised the glass to his lips. The First Mate glanced at Blair before easily helping himself to more food, making for a very strange air. The Captain was dangerous and angry yet the first mate was relaxed and over friendly.

The Lady, who up until now had been watching the proceedings with interest, looked on in amusement as her husband almost collapsed in relief when the bald slave returned dragging the small girl behind him. Anya stood behind the older slave and after casting a curious glance to the sailors swiftly examined the tiles.

Blair looked her over silently, noting how the girl was quivering like a horse about to flee and how she leaned away from the Lord petrified. He nodded sharply to the Lord, "This is the one, "he informed him mildly. Then he looked to his First Mate and spoke in another language, "We are leaving, anyone that tries to stop us...," he trailed off. The First Mate smiled and stood sharply before walking off with his pitcher.

Blair turned back to the now nervous Lord, "Sent him for some gold, "he lied easily. The Lord smiled and moistening his lips, began to speak.

"You, would like her?' he asked slyly, sensing a sale. The Captain folded his arms, "Yes".

"Isnt she a bit... small for you?' he asked looking the giant man over. Blair remained silent his brown eyes beginning to stir. An awkward silence ensured before the Lord gulped, "Ah, what do you think she is worth?" Blair looked toward Anya. "A few more years and she will be a nice young virgin fit for the bedchambers, "the Lord smiled encouragingly. Blair stiffened and slowly unfolded his limbs.

Towering over the Lord he reached into his tunic and bought out a pouch. The Lord began to feel excited as the twinkle of coins was heard. Two copper crowns were tossed onto the table and Blair gestured to Anya, 'Come."

The Lord turned crimson in fury, "How dare you!," he spat and lunged for Anya, grabbing her collar as she leapt away. She wrestled free and as she fell forward a gold necklace fell from her pocket. The Lord swooped down on it in glee, "What have we here?" he asked as he admired the necklace. Anya, who had crouched in the corner, suddenly became angry, "Give it back," she cried, "it's mine!"

The Lord sneered at her, "Slaves don't own anything, they are owned." The slaves around him shrank away and Anya recoiled as he strode over, hand raised. Blair sprung forward, knocking the table out of his way, and grasped the Lords arm in a snake like grip, the other hand going to his throat. The Lord gasped in furry, "Get your hands off me", his voice rose to squeak. Blair ignored him and snarled, "Give her back her necklace." When the Lord refused he began to squeeze, the Lords eyes opened in pain and he gasped for help as his air supply was cut. The slaves around him just watched silently from the shadows, the Lady only leaned forward in interest.

Eventually the Lord released the necklace and Blair threw him to the ground where he sat gasping for breath and rubbing his throat. Anya snatched the necklace and pressed herself against the wall. Blair crouched down in front of her, "I'm not going to hurt you," he said softly, "not like he has, " he jerked his head towards the furious Lord. Anya stared at him with wide eyes, "Come on." Blair stood and walked away without glancing back. After a moment's hesitation Anya got up and quickly followed him, shying away from the Lord.

Blair stood on the stone steps letting the sunlight soak into his skin as his crew all mounted, weapons ready to be grasped. A stable boy bought forward his horse and Blair walked up to it. Turning he found Anya and lifted her easily onto the front of the saddle, and then he mounted. Being God-born he was able to hear the hurried footsteps and the wheezing breath of the Lord. The soldiers saw him reach down to adjust his stirrup before flinging his arm behind his back and bowing mockingly. "A good day, gentlemen!" And then he nudged his horse forward and soon all that was left of them were memories and a trail of dust.

Later, when the sun began to set did they find the body, a single dart imbedded in the Lord's chest causing him to slip into the land of dreams. When he awoke the next morning he would not remember anything and the Lady, nor the slaves informed him of anything accept he had sold the girl Anya to the Captain of The Crimson Dawn.

Waves lapped gently at the hull as the ship sailed into the harbour. Four horses and five riders made their way from Port Cayan and through the mist towards the Capital. The riders made Chorus in good time , without pushing their mounts to hard and dawn saw them joining the crowds wandering among the stores. The leader, riding a great big grey, directed the group and a young girl sat in front of him looking about curiously safely caged within bands of muscle.

Suddenly a grubby child ran in front of the horses and the grey through his head back and launched into a half rear before the rider threw his weight forward and forced the grey to its feet. As his hoofs touched the cobblestones the girl was thrown forward and an amber pendant swinging on a chain of gold slipped from the front of her shirt.

The rider cursed at the boy and the group continued forward, the girl quickly hiding her necklace. A pair of hazel eyes watched them go before slipping into the shadows.

The Palace courtyard was bustling with people; squires ran errands and pages trained. Stable boys came and took the horses and a man came hurrying out of the stables to gaze at the horses in awe.

Blair dismounted easily and lifted Anya from the saddle, his muscles bulging.

A servant came up to the sailors and after glancing at them with wide eyes he asked what their business was. The Second Mate smiled a greeting and answered for the crew, "We wish to talk to Sir Myles of Olau, it is important that we see him as soon as possible."

The servant looked at the grim sailors, the way their muscle bulged beneath their tunics and the way they held themselves with confidence and the small girl that seemed at ease with them. He bowed slightly, "I will inform Sir Myles of your arrival," a bell began to ring announcing the change of class, "if you will follow me." Blair nodded and followed the servant up into the palace, Anya and his Second Mate following him, the other two sailors made their way towards the training ring.

They were led to a large but comfortably furnished room and asked to wait for someone to take them to Sir Myles. As the door closed Blair turned to Anya and tossed her a pack, "Make yourself presentable, "he ordered, though not unkindly.

Anya nodded and moved into a corner, the Second Mate and the Captain politely turning away. When she was finished she was standing in a new white dress, simple but elegant though the entire affect was marginally ruined by the worn boots peeking from beneath the skirt. Blair smiled at her and then lead the way from the room, ignoring Anya's look of mortification.

Passing a youth in gold and red he gestured for him to stop. The youth did so and stood bouncing from foot to foot on the spot. "Could you please direct us to Sir Myles?" The page looked between them and appeared to be making up his mind, did he risk angering the very big men and hurry to class or face the wrath of his teachers and please the sailors.

Blair, sensing the indecision added, "It will be in your best interest to tell us," and folded his arms.

The youth nodded, "If you would follow me," he moistened his lips hurriedly and began to briskly walk down the halls. After various turns the youth paused before a door, "Sir Myles has a class right now, so you may have to wait," he suggested, Blair nodded and tossed him a gold coin. The youth grinned and semi-bowed before leisurely strolling off, he was already beyond late and he would tell his teacher he was running an errand.

The sailors paused at the door and the Second Mate checked his sword before nodding to Blair. Blair drew himself up and then rapped sharply on the door before throwing it open, both he and the second mate missed the page watching them cautiously from the end of the corridor before turning and running for Duke Gareth.

Sir Myles was short and plump; his shaggy beard was ribboned with grey, as was his hair. His green brown eyes turned curiously to the sailors as they boldly walked into the room. The students all looked curiously at him before looking to the sailors.

Sir Myles was polite at such an interruption, "Excuse me, gentleman. May I be of assistance?"

"Sir Myles?" Blair asked, an eyebrow raised.

Sir Myles nodded, "Yes".

The second mate drew Anya forward, who looked at all the boys staring at her, before flushing and looking at the ground. "We have something for you,"

Sir Myles looked at the girl in surprise before answering mildly, "I do believe you are mistaken, I don't deal in slaves. Nor will you find such a practice legal in this land"

Blair sighed angrily, "She is no longer a slave, but she is for you."

Sir Myles stared at the sailors for a moment before looking to his class, 'Please take out your text books and begin an essay on the advantages and disadvantages of the Code of Chivalry. I will be back shortly."

Blair nodded before backing out, Anya sticking to him like burr. Sir Myles shut the door behind him and hurriedly tried to catch up with the sailor's long strides, his shorter stature causing him to trot.

Blair easily lead the way back to the meeting room and held the door for Anya, who flashed smile, his second and the short Knight. He snapped his fingers and the door locked and ocean blue fire encircled the room.

Blair sat leisurely on a chair and gestured for Myles to do the same. The second mate helped himself to a beverage and offered some to Anya and his captain before deciding to offer some to Myles. Only Anya and sir Myles accepted. Myles was looking between the sailors curiously, questions obviously on his tongue.

Eventually Blair stirred and reached into his tunic and tossing the Knight a scroll encased in a purple ribbon.

Sir Myles immediately recognised the crisp writing addressing him and looked to the sailors in shock before swiftly untying the ribbon.

_Sir Myles, _

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. Otherwise I really don't know what I would do. _

_I understand you have questions and to be honest I don't even know if I can answer them. I also hope you can help me, and I will tell you all I can of what has happened to me in eighteen months. Eighteen months, it seems like such a short time and so much as happened._

_I have already told you of how I came to be a squire so I will continue from there. I rode for Tusaine, I don't really know or understand why, I didn't have a direction or a purpose. I just rode. I crossed the border fairly easily( the Tusaine scouts aren't that efficient, or at least the ones I evaded aren't) and was beginning to ride north to Galla. It was foolish of me, I know. But I was so blind to my own safety, so filled with rage and sorrow I was nonchalant. Several days into my journey north a band of slavers caught me. I would like to say I fought valiantly, with honour and chivalry, but I did not. I fought as though possessed, with only one thought, to kill. Eventually I was dragged from Moonlight and captured. Miraculously I was uninjured, and we snuck from Tusaine and into Merath. Slavery is widely accepted there; almost everyone with money has a slave. I was bought by a Lord and served in his house for seven months when we went to the palace to celebrate the birth of the heir._

Sir Myles was so engrossed with his reading he never heard the pounding on the door, nor the warnings yelled through the wood.

_The royals were assassinated and I found out that a slave I knew was meant to assassinate them, I don't understand what happened but they weren't killed by him. I escaped during the chaos but the guards thought I was the assassin. I ran for a cliff and jumped into the sea, I would have been tortured had they caught me. I awoke to find myself aboard the Red Sun, now the Crimson Dawn._

Sir Myles glanced up and met the captain's steady gaze, he now realised who he was sitting opposite. Hesitantly he returned to reading.

_The captain and I made a mutual agreement and I was safe, feed, I had a bed to sleep in and their mage was teaching me to replace him. I came to enjoy their company and I liked the sailors, they do deserve their reputation but they aren't really that bad._

_They tell me Tahakén (I'm sure you have heard of it) is a desolate place, a place of soulless beings. I hope not, I hope it will be okay. I'm scared Myles, I don't know what do to..._

_Enough of this, I am only depressing myself. I asked Blair, the Captain of the Crimson Dawn, to find Anya, the slave girl I was with in Merath. He will bring her to Tortall where I know you will take care of her. _

_I hope you do not share this letter with anyone, including George, Gary and Raul. I don't want them looking for me, and please do not. I don't want anything happening to you on my account._

_I wish you well, Myles._

_Love Alanna_

_P.S. I have a really big favour to ask. Would you please see to it that Faithful is cared for? And if possible hunt Moonlight down and see that she is well cared for. I don't mind if you sell my belongings, where I am going now I won't have any need of them._

Myles looked up from his letter in time to see guards come crashing through the blown open door, swords drawn. They flooded the room and surrounded the occupants, knocking over the table with the drinks. The Captain and his companion remained calmly seated and the girl-child after looking fearfully at the soldiers calmed considerably at the Captain reassuring nod. Duke Gareth, who strode in after the guards, hand on hilt, surveyed the room. His gaze came to rest on Anya, who had shuffled closer to the giant captain and he visibly paused. Then he looked to the ruffled Knight that sat unblinking like an owl.

Confident in his own ability he strode over to Sir Myles who didn't acknowledge his presence. Duke Gareth frowned and then began to wave his hand in front of the catatonic knight. After failing to gain Myles' attention he began to yell at him.

Blair stirred, "He's fine, just in shock I'm sure. Give him a moment and he will come back to us."

Duke Gareth looked at him sharply before relenting slightly.

"Is it true?" Myles asked softly of Blair. The Captain looked at him curiously, "Everything she said," he rumbled.

Myles looked as though his world had been turned upside down, "It exists?'

Blair sighed; he knew what the Knight was referring to. "Yes, it does exist, though it cannot be found on any map or in any memory."

Myles leaned back in his chair and rubbed his beard, the Duke reading the horror on his face spun back to the Captain ready to ask questions.

Blair spoke first, raising a hand, "No. I cannot and will not answer your questions. They are not mine to tell," He glanced to the shaken Knight, "nor are they Myles'".

The guards began to shuffle on their feet and Myles looked up at the Duke. "It's okay, Duke Gareth, we are not in danger."

The Duke appraised him for a moment before nodding and gesturing for the guards to leave.

Duke Gareth looked at the second mate before up righting a turned chair and slumping into it. Then he leaned forward, his eyes questioning.

"Okay, what is going on? Who are you?"

The second mate folded his arms. "I am Shae, this is Anya, "she smiled shyly at the Duke, "and I am Second Mate aboard the Crimson Dawn, formally the Red Sun." The Duke visibly blanched and pulled back slightly.

Shae jerked his finger towards Blair, "Cap'n Blair," his voice was educated but had the rough edges of a commoner.

"Fair not, Eastern Lord, "Blair reassured, "We will not raise our fist if you do not."

Lord Naxen relaxed, slightly, "Why are you here?"

Sir Myles answered for them, "To bring me Anya. And no, she is not mine, " Myles answered the Dukes questioning glance.

Blair sighed and got to his feet stretching, "We have stayed to long. A storm is building off the coast and if we hope to reach the Copper Isles safely we must leave within the hour." Shae nodded and tussled Anya's hair as he walked for the door, "Farewell little one,".

Blair looked at Anya as Myles and Gareth got to their feet, 'You will be safe here, Anya. Be well, "After nodding once to Myles and the Duke he was gone, out the door.

That night Myles got as drunk as he ever had, and the next night, and the night after that, and the nights after. Only a worried talk with Queen Lianne turned his escape away. After all, with Myles drinking himself unconscious every night who would help her help Jonathan. Anya was given a job as a maid, to Queen Lianne herself, because her experience working for the Lady of Goldenfeilds. After several weeks she began to relax and wouldn't flinch at every loud noise and for the whispers to cease. She continued to hide the pendant given to her by Alanna beneath her shirt and will never take it off.

The Crimson Dawn was never identified in Tortallan waters again.

**Authors Note: **

Sorry its taken a while. I've been busy with end of year exams and study. Anyway, review please.

**Niger Unda:** Hope this(Which you have already read) helps (Leave me nice reviews! (you know I can't spell/grammar is bad( I speaking good England )))

**ZuliaGirl:** Thank you.

**CoTB:** Thank you. Um, I kinda just write... it just comes out I don't know whether I can answer that... but I suppose what I just said is an answer :p

**Fang:** It gets better

Regards, Con Dar Lioness


	19. Tahaken AND Spoiler!

**Tahakén**

_There is no easy walk to freedom anywhere, and many of us will have to pass through the valley of the shadow of death again and again before we reach the mountaintop of our desires._  
**Nelson Mandela**

Alanna knelt slowly before The Master, trying and failing to quell the fear igniting throughout her soul. She felt as though every fibre of her being was being examined and found wanting, very wanting. Raku knelt next to her, clad in black and he was speaking respectfully to his Master in an unknown language, but Alanna could feel the power of it. Daring a glance up, she saw frosty blue eyes staring straight at her, she quickly looked at the tiles.

The power crackling around the man was immense, she had never felt so much power coming from any being that wasn't a God. She made a mental note to ask Raku if he were a God, or God-born, for the sheer magnitude of his Gift... He sat calmly, arrogant in his own power and his position; she guessed he had the right. He was ruler of an immense castle, virtually unbreachable _if_ it could be found and he obviously had wealth for his room was adorned with noticeably ancient artefacts and the walls seemed to have flecks of gold in the design.

His chair, or throne, was scaled like a snake, with obsidian reflecting the amber fingers of the fireplace. Along the back of the room were paintings of horrific destruction, slayings of creatures of radiance, landscapes obliterated by fire and armies vanquished by beings of nightmare. Each was more devastating and bloodthirsty than the last, and finally there was a great black dragon fighting valiantly against a single figure on a hill. Power lashed around both beings and the dragon roared in pain as it was struck by cobalt lightning. Sheer black fire surrounded it and fire flashed from its jaws, then the dragon climbed into the sky before spiralling between sapphire splashes of Gift. Alanna blinked in understanding, the painting was moving and it was showing her the scene.

Unable to recoil, and watching in fascinated horror she watched as the great dragon fell, exhausted before the Mage. The Mage raised its hands before throwing a bolt of azure straight into the dragons skull. With a final shuddering roar the dragon was slain, an explosion of power rippled out from it and rolled across the land.

Alanna tore her eyes away in repulsion and sheer will kept her from deprivation of her lunch. The Master was watching her pale face and barked a laugh, a cruel and devoid of pleasure sound, "Do you like my art?" Alanna didn't answer and ignored Raku's obvious prompting.

Something flashed through The Master's eyes before they returned stony, "I will give you some advice," he growled and Alanna was struck with how well educated he was, "when someone has authority over you, which is everyone for you, you obey _every_ instruction they give."

Alanna met his eyes briefly before fear demanded she look at the tiles, the only reason she didn't flee was because she was paralyzed in fear.

When Alanna still didn't answer a blast of air hit her and threw her back across the room. It was as though she had been kicked in the chest by a horse as she slammed into the marble wall and dropped to the floor. Winded she gasped for breath and shivered as something snaked across her skin and tightened around her neck, slowly she was lifted above the floor, held only by her throat. Panicking she tried to claw at the rope around her neck that was cutting her air supply, cool air curled around her wrists before constricting and constraining her arms at her side.

As her lungs screamed for air her vision began to blur and flicker and Alanna felt herself slipping into darkness. Then suddenly the pressure on her neck slowly began relax, though as Alanna regained consciousness she thought it seemed almost reluctant. Taking deep breaths she forced her eyes open and turned a full scale livid glare at The Master, her furry overriding her fear. Indifferent eyes were watching her struggle before narrowing on her, and then amusement ignited in them.

Alanna flinched as the air around her began to crackle and flicker. Wincing she held back a scream as the air began to lick her skin, it felt as though she were on fire. Blood welled on her lip as she struggled not to scream, though as the heat became unbearable she clenched her fists and began to scream, thrashing against invisible bonds that held her. Raku watched her calmly and looked to the Master slightly worried as he showed no sign of letting her go. Alanna screamed even louder, if that were possible, as the invisible fire began to intrude down her throat. The burning sensation flooded her body and Alanna was frozen in agony, her screams were soundless, she had long lost her voice.

Alanna slumped forward in her binds and closed her eyes as shadow fingers stretched across her face and as the world veiled coal she could hear only her racing heart and then there was silence...

Raku eyed the Lord with unreadable eyes and mentally insulted the man with every slur he knew, and in his several centuries he knew quite a lot, in every tongue. The lord, unaware of the slaves' inner affront, turned to the slaver and nodded and coins were exchanged. The slave trader smiled and withdrew a chalice and a sharp blade. Raku didn't even flinch as the metal cut easily into the skin on his forearm, a trickle of blood welled before snaking down his arm, across his wrist and then down over his fingers and into the cup. The blood continued to well, without thickening, until the chalice was almost full. Then the blood flow stopped and Raku held the offered cloth to his arm before wrapping it.

The Lord visibly blanched when he saw he had to cut himself and moistened his lips as he held the blade to his skin. At a nod from his "owner" Raku leapt forward and punctured the Lord with the blade before slinking back to his previous position beside his companion.

Turning red in fury the Lord cursed him and swiped angrily at the wound. Rolling his eyes discreetly to Raku, the Trader strode forward and caught the Lords arm. Twisting it until the Lord relented, the Trader let some blood drop into the brimming crystal glace before releasing the Lord and turning to the bench behind him. The Lord snatched his arm to his chest and glared at the trader before turning about to get his guards. Raku intercepted him and clasped a gloved hand over the Lords mouth.

At the bench the Trader sprinkled some dust into the cup before speaking some words over it. He turned back to Raku and offered the chalice to him, a challenging gleam going unnoticed by the Lord. Raku tilted his head and released the Lord before shoving him to the ground away from him.

Raku snatched the chalice and bought it to his lips in a smooth movement and tipping his head drunk it as though it were the finest wine, his gift cleansing the blood of any impurities. The Trader winced as the chalice was shoved back into his chest.

"He is now completely under your control," he said to the Lord, who stood slowly, glaring at Raku.

"Is he?"

The Trader nodded, the lie coming easily to his lips, "Yes, every order will be obeyed. But make sure you are precise, this one here is sometimes difficult." It was a dig; Raku bared his blood stained teeth at his comrade and then smiled.

The Lord thought about this for a moment, "Kill him," he ordered, pointing at the Trader. The Slaver turned pale as Raku shifted to face him and foolishly tried to make the door. With a snarl Raku struck his comrade and sent him reeling into the wall.

"Fool, "he rumbled in his own language, "I warned you to remember I am your superior, if not in title then ability." Advancing on his "brother" he slid a blade into his palm and waited.

The other Tahakén slave got to his feet, wiping his bleeding mouth before reaching for the blade at his side. "You are no longer one of us," he spat as he tried to find an advantage over Raku, "You are dishonoured and shamed. You think you will be alive after this mission?" The slave laughed harshly, "You won't be."

"I do not fear death, brother, "he snarled and sensing the Lords annoyance at the lack of death, he leapt forward and drove his blade through his comrades' chest.

The fallen slave grinned as he fell backwards into the wall, "You think you will get redemption? Ha, you will not." Those were his final words and Raku spat in his direction before turning back to his new "Master".

Looking the Lord over he could barely contain the disgust he felt, the Lord wore a red tunic framed by frills of purple and he wore purple breeches with red thread. What an awful combination of colours, Raku thought as he awaited his command.

Puffing himself up as though a rooster the Lord gestured for his slave, "Come, Slave." Raku blinked at the little maggot and followed him out of the room. Branching off he took another door and entered it easily before locking the door with magic. Examining the cut on his forearm he healed it with a flick of his wrist and then snapped his fingers. His simple tunic and leggings exchanged for his black leathers and his cloak settled across his shoulders before coiling around his arms.

Fully dressed in his Tahakén slave garb he walked over to the window. It opened as he approached it and a small bird was gently lifted from its cage and lowered into his gloved hands. An ink pen rose and the sliver of paper bound to the birds leg uncoiled. The message was written in flowing script and the paper coiled before string bound it onto the bird's leg. Absently stroking the bird as he listened to the minds in the inn below him, he sighed and tossed the bird into the air.

Turning back he surveyed the room, his pack was next to the door and all his weapons were positioned in order on the bed.

He shifted to a relaxed stance as the weapons rose and floated towards him, easily sliding into various sheaths. Unrest entered the minds he was monitoring and through a barmaids eyes Raku saw the Lord glance behind him and then turn purple with rage as he realised his slave wasn't behind him. Raku snarled but moved faster, and tossed his pack over his shoulder before he ran easily down the steps into the inn. His arrival was unnoticed and he strode up behind the Lord as he roared orders at his guardsmen.

"Go in there and get me that slave!"

"My Lord, do you mean that slave?" he asked gesturing to Raku. The Lord spun and glared furiously at him.

"What do you think you are doing?" he bellowed. Raku mentally envisioned his hand tightening around the Lords arrogant throat; he smiled, mentally, as the Lord turned blue.

"I was getting my gear, "Raku answered smoothly. The Lord gaped like a fish out of water before turning red in fury. How ill becoming you look, Raku thought as the Lords eyes bulged.

"How dare you disobey an order! You will pay dearly for that, slave!" he turned to his guard captain. "Punish him!" The guard eyed the cocky middle-aged man with frosty emerald eyes and hesitated.

Raku took advantage of his reluctance, "I did not disobey your order," he stated, "My Lord," he added as an afterthought. The guards jaws dropped, a slave was talking back to an owner.

The Lord was speechless and as were the civilians that had heard the confrontation and were watching. "You told me to come, "Raku said folding his arms, entering the Lord's mind, "You failed to specify when and where. I am here, so I have not disobeyed your orders at all."

Throwing his arms up the Lord turned and ordered for his guards to bring a horse for Raku, just how he wanted. Subtly within the Lords mind he ordered the guards to move out and gracefully ascended into the saddle, forgetting that the Lord was not an accomplished rider. Raku mounted as easily as he had done within the Lords mind and before he withdrew he added a command within the Lords sub-conscious.

The Lord glanced over at his new slave riding easily next to him and decided he looked rather dangerous in his current clothes. The Lord grinned slyly, yes. He could do quite well with a slave that was an accomplished warrior and looked dangerous, under his complete control, a very good purchase indeed. He would keep this slave with him at all times, Lord Francis of Golden Fields decided. Raku allowed a small smile to cross his face within the shadow of his cloak, the mission had begun.

Raku sighed and briefly glanced towards the sky before controlling himself, Tahakén slaves did not pray or worship any Gods. For almost seven years he had been a part of the Golden Field household, openly obedient to every command of the Lord, cold and calculating, waiting, watching. Always watching. After several years of intimidating nobles, he had swiftly become bored with the Lords petty games and had been bored ever since. He soon picked every locked door, learnt the identity of every mistress the Lord had, he had been most surprised to learn of the Ladies infidelity and with women! Though he did not commend it, he understood, same sex relationships were a common thing at Tahakén, especially with the women. And in the Copper Isles the relationships were almost as common as opposite sex relationships.

To entertain himself he had spied on the Lord and had informed the Lady of every sexual encounter her husband had. The Lady had fumed for days before subtly getting back at him, though he did not know it. Sometimes he would bed prostitutes, though after a time even that bored him and increasingly he found himself longing for the fortifications of Tahakén, of home.

He was standing on the ramparts with the wind rustling around him when he saw the incoming wagons. He called to the guards on the ramparts and informed them of the visitors arriving before jumping down and vertically sliding down the stone. He landed easily, his cloak snapping around him and slunk in the shadows to the manner, new slaves; it was something he had seen countless times.

He hung around the kitchens and easily charmed himself a honey cake, not that he needed to but he was bored and wanted to see how long it would take him. Moistening his lips to catch any honey he had missed, he mentally heard the Guard Captain, Brophy, considering raping another slave. Snorting in hatred he straightened and strode from the kitchens, determined to see this new slave that had cost fourteen gold crowns.

The girl undressed easily and stood in the centre of the room seemingly oblivious to the looks she was getting. Raku stood to the side as the Mage checked her over, his hands lingering. Sending a probe to her mind he was surprised to find it blank of thoughts, with the exception of the calculating way she was eyeing the Mage. Raku smiled as she decided to hurt him and knew the moves she would make heartbeats before she moved. The red-haired slave snarled and struck. First she snatched his arm from her skin and then kicked him between the legs, as he fell she held his wrist firmly.

Raku sighed as the Lord looked to him and within moments his whip was streaming through the air, though he made sure it cracked to give her a moments warning. Her reflexes were swift, though not quick enough to escape a lashing and as she stepped back her arms jerked. The Mages wrist snapped cleanly and he collapsed, torn between holding his wrist or clutching his manhood.

Flicking his wrists in a circular motion Raku continued the lashing until the Lord indicated he should stop. The whip was halfway through the next lash when the instruction came so Raku flicked it to the side before pulling it back to him. The slave girl was crying into the marble as two big guards lifted her to her feet. She growled and began to fight, biting and kicking and scratching that it was difficult for the two guards to hold her, even though she was only a small thing.

A sharp blow to her head and the girl slumped forward stunned, and subdued, for now. Raku watched her go, a spark of curiosity igniting within him, what an unusual creature, a woman that fought.

Several days later he was mediating when watchfulness and disbelief entered the minds he was monitoring. Focusing his mind he watched through the eyes of a kitchen-hand as the Lord stalked out of the room with a bloody nose. For the first time in months he actually laughed, a light and carefree sound, finally someone had done what he longed to do.

Quickly unfolding himself he made his way to the resting chambers of the Lord and Lady, arriving moments before he heard the girl slave, Alanna he had discovered her name was, follow the old herb woman. He easily wound between the two guards and made his way to the window as there was a knock on the door.

Alanna glared at the guards as she was roughly dragged inside and the door slammed. She was sent sprawling at a shove from the guards and shot them an icy look. Raku mentally smiled, a kitten thought itself a Tiger. When she stared openly at him he allowed a smile to cross his face as he looked her over. She held herself calmly, though slightly hunched to the side, Raku assumed she had recently broken bones; it was a posture he had seen often and had been in more than he could count.

He scanned the room, giving the illusion he wasn't paying attention, though always made sure he kept her in his sights.

The Lord cleared his throat and Raku mentally frowned, would someone please kill this man! He was so tempted, it would be so easy... but no. His mission would not be compromised, but still.

Raku watched with interest as Alanna shifted into a fighting stance similar to those used by Knights, his curiosity heightened as he read her mind and watched her calculate the distance between herself and the guards. The very fact she thought she could take on the guards puzzled him, she couldn't be a Shang, no Shang warrior could be subdued as easily as she was and he knew of no other organisation that allowed women warriors.

He slowly straightened, wondering how long it would take her to notice his movement, she was aware almost immediately and amethyst eyes rose to defiantly stare at him. Through her eyes he saw the challenge within his own and wiggled his fingers above the whip handle. She glared at him for a moment before reluctantly straightening and resumed listening to the Lords rambling voice.

Raku blinked as he heard his name and tilted his head towards the Lord, "Raku will fulfil the punishment." Alanna eyes widened and snapped to him, her face paled in horror and she recoiled from him. Then she struck, first she kicked a guard's shin and as she was held in a bear-hug by the second, wriggled out of his arms and elbowed him sharply in the side. She turned and slammed her palm upwards and into his face, he stumbled back onto the Lady's cushions. The other guard limped forward and dove for her, she sidestepped the first blow and slammed the side of her hand into his neck, he dropped unconscious.

Making up his mind he strode forward and casually knocked a vase of its pedestal to get her attention. She turned and saw him, scanning her mind he saw the range of moves she knew and knew that she would pose no challenge for someone of his skill. Stepping forward he struck, her arm moved confidently to block his and he snaked his legs under hers and flipped her onto her back. She blinked curiously at the ceiling before watching him, as a bird eyes a cat, as she rose.

Raku mentally smiled and withdrew from her mind; he already had an unfair advantage over her, before resuming his attacks. He punched her swiftly, though had she not blocked him he wouldn't have hurt her, he would have halted millimetres from her body. A strange resigned look came into her eyes before they began to burn. She followed the advice he had grown up with, attack and win or defend and lose. He hastily blocked her, momentarily off put by the venom in her attack, before blocking and attacking as they moved across the floor. She moved easily, obviously comfortable with fighting and he found himself wishing she had the stamina and strength he did, so they would never have to stop.

The Lord was becoming restless at the fighting and ordered Raku to end the fight, to subdue Alanna. Never in his years of service had he wanted to kill the Lord more than this moment and only his devotion to his Master and his Masters wishes kept him from killing the arrogant bastard. His furry caused him to hit Alanna harder than he intended and she stumbled back winded before falling from a blow to the head.

Raku took a step back as the girl gazed dreamily at the ceiling, before a nod from the Lord and he crouched down and lifted her easily, holding her out on his forearms as he followed the Lord. He lowered her gently onto the marble floor and clamped the manacles on Alanna's wrists. He walked over to the mechanism and wound the handle and Alanna was slowly lifted off the ground.

Raku ignored the Lord as he slapped Alanna around the face and ordered thirty lashes as he exited the room. Thirty lashes, that would be easy, for him. He was trained for it and more, much, much more. As he slowly uncoiled his whip he wondered how many it would take before she broke. "Please," she begged and Raku glanced over at her sadly.

"You have spirit child," his voice was soft and gentle, something rare for him, "that is not a good thing if you are a slave."

Raku saw the flash of shame cross her face before she begged again, "Please no."

A stirring of pity awakened in Raku, a feeling he hadn't felt for a very long time. He wandered over to her and couldn't resist the impulse to touch her smooth scar-less skin. Remembering the words once spoken to him before his training he spoke, "A wise man once told me that all pain is fleeting. It may last a minute, an hour, a day, or even a year," at year he hesitated, his own training was much, much longer, several life spans, "but eventually, it will subside and something else will take its place. If you quit or surrender to the pain, however, then it is eternal."

The fear in her eyes was clear before she swallowed and nodded sharply, determination flaring in her amethyst orbs. He walked slowly past her to the wall before pivoting and staring at her vulnerable back.

"Find a place inside," he suggested, remembering his own struggles with his training, "where there is joy and bliss and let it cool the flames of pain".

Raku felt the girl squeeze her eyes closed and grit her teeth. That was wise, he thought, she wouldn't bite her tongue that way.

He unrolled the coil at his waste and flicked his wrist, the dim light illuminating the ivory handle.

The whip struck her back with a snap, Raku would never soften his blows, and he had learnt that lesson well. Alanna jerked, tongues of fire lapped her skin and a cry wrestled through her teeth. He didn't need to harden himself, this was what he was trained for, pain. And he, being a Tahakén Prince, in ability if not in title, excelled at the emotion that was pain, in giving and taking it.

Rhythmically the whip bit into the soft skin of her back until she slumped forward, without the strength to hold herself upright in the chains, without the voice to scream. Only when she was unconscious did Raku show the thread of mercy he was known for, the lashes quickened until they were a blur, almost to his own eyes. At thirty he stopped and re-coiled his whip at his side, the girl had lasted longer than he had originally thought. Raku eyed the unconscious girl slumping forward in the chains with her blood cascading down in a waterfall onto the marble. What a pity, he thought, that she would probably die and just when life had begin to become interesting.

As he walked from the room he had an uncomfortable feeling he was missing something, something important. Something that could turn his life around.

Raku strode down the halls, nonchalant to the chips his boots were making in the marble. He opened the door to the Lady's chambers easily, now the Lord had left the house he was able to release some of his pent up magic, even if it was on small tasks, like opening a door or a window.

The Lady had requested his presence, she was the only marginally wise one when it came to him, and she treated him as he was, a very powerful Mage and only requested things of him. She also gave him almost free leave when the Lord was away, as well as a small allowance to "please" himself. Raku didn't complain; she didn't fully understand who or what he was, like most people he came across, but he didn't have very long to live and figured he might as well make the most of it. He especially enjoyed haunting Brophy; the man was so easy to scare for all his attitude and bravado and Raku liked knocking the man down a peg or two.

The Lord had taken Brophy and several guards on trip into town for "business" he frequently had these "business trips" and while he and Brophy were away, the Lady and the female slaves breathed easier. The Lady made the most of her husband's absence and often spent the days being pampered by her favourite female slaves, the pretty ones. Though she made a point of never being with a woman her husband had been with. Today she had formed a plan, she had heard of the attitude and fire in the new slave, Alanna, and wanted to see her fully for herself.

Alanna herself had no idea of the Lady's preferences for women, as the slaves were sworn to secrecy, death being the punishment for a word, and also because she would step in if a liked slave were to be punished. Rather, she made sure they were never assaulted by any of the guards, her husband or Brophy. Raku helped ensure this, when he saw one of the Lady's slaves being attacked by one of the guards he had gladly stepped in. He could still recall the way his head had cracked against the stone walls and the satisfaction of breaking bones. Unfortunately, after a while the men learnt not to touch the Lady's slaves and Raku was back to enduring months without violence.

Today the Lady had a bath being prepared as he walked in and took his customary place by the window, ignoring the scantly clothed women eyeing him cautiously. He heard Alanna walk in and from within the eyes of several of the slaves he saw her blanch at what she saw and then blush as she understood. Raku turned to look at her in amusement, it was obviously a first for her and entering her mind he saw the calculations going through her head. She held her tray in front of her as she slid further into the room and gulped when the Lady purred, "Come here, girl."

Raku couldn't help it; he had to smile as Alanna placed the tray on the table and leapt back as though it would bite her. With a thought he shut the door and watched as the Lady looked Alanna over, unfortunately for Alanna, the Lady's favourite colour was purple.

Alanna was red as she gazed at the floor and scuffed her foot, visibly uncomfortable.

Raku had been asked to ensure each new lover hadn't been tainted by her husband and when Alanna answered no, he nodded to the Lady. She was speaking the truth.

Listening to the Lady brag over her own escapades and her husband's ignorance she gestured for Alanna to accompany her to her bath. When she was threatened with lashing she flinched and glanced to Raku, he frowned at her and tilted his head after the Lady.

In the bathroom Alanna made to enter the water and he hurriedly stepped forward and halted her. "No," he mouthed and shook his head. A slave gestured for her to remove her clothes and she flushed scarlet.

The Lady turned and demand she remove her clothes and get in the bath or Alanna would be whipped until death. Alanna glared at her for a moment before Raku entered her mind and mentally ordered her mind to remove her clothes. The Lord was cruel, but the Lady would not be disobeyed and her slaves knew this, many a slave had been killed for the slightest disobedience.

She was blushing and shyly glancing anywhere but at Raku, the Lady and the slave by the time she was bare. Raku was immediately drawn to an object glowing on her necklace and by the magic covering it he assumed the others weren't able to see it, which made sense. The slaves weren't allowed any possessions and a pretty necklace like that would be taken immediately.

The other slaves hid as Alanna slowly got into the scented water and gulped. The Lady watched her predatorily as she tried to cover herself with bubbles and gestured wryly for her to come closer. Alanna obeyed, slowly and stopped several feet in front of the Lady, her fingers making marks in the soap.

Licking her lips the Lady twirled her fingers and Alanna hesitantly turned and faced the way she had come. The Lady moved closer slowly and when her skin pressed against Alanna's back she jumped and then stiffened as slender arms held her from behind. The Lady took the soap with one hand and gently brushed Alanna's hair away from her neck with the other.

Her lips met the girls quivering skin and her eyes flicked to Raku. He bowed and walked out, reluctant to leave for the first time in years.

Raku sighed as he gazed at the sky, it would rain soon and he had to feed the horses in the paddock. He didn't mind the rain, if he wished he could divert it over him or even stop it, but that took effort and to be honest he wasn't really interested. As he strode closer to the barn he heard regular muffled thumps and quietly slunk into the shadows and into the barn.

Upstairs Alanna was glaring at an upright hay bale and systematically attacking it with hands and feet. He watched her for a while, noting her movements and with each strike knew the force she used, the speed and the exact moves that she would move and the patterns he could create to defeat her.

Turning she began a spinning kick and saw him out of the corned of her eyes, she froze instantly and he had to read her mind to see what she was thinking. There was a steady stream of moves, a small focus on the pain of her hurting knuckles and feet and a flare of fear he would report her illicit actions to the Lord.

It was going to rain, walking over to her hay bale he picked it up and slung it easily across his shoulder, noting with amusement the envy in her eyes. He hurried to feed the horses and when he passed back by the barn a quick mental scan assured him she wasn't there.

Several days later, he was monitoring the house hold movements when a figure left the house and snuck across the cobblestones towards the barn. Smiling he rose and walked through several walls until he was out of the castle, his Gift rejoiced at its use and strained, lustful for more. He relinquished to it and teleported immediately to inside the barn, the place he had visualised.

He waited quietly in the shadows as Alanna climbed the outside of the barn and landed loudly, so loudly he flinched. She needed to learn how to move silently, to walk lightly...

A ball of purple fire lit the room and Raku saw her standing next to the window dripping wet.

"You're not very quiet, for a small person," he drawled and she spun to confront him. Anger flashed across her face and he stripped himself of his cloak. And then hesitated and cast a spell to hide his"brand" and then quickly covered his action by removing his tunic and walked to stand before her. He invaded her privacy; he had to know what she was thinking. He mentally smiled when she looked his torso over and almost smirked when she thought he was perfectly toned. But then he flinched, she had noticed the scars, not that they weren't noticeable but he suddenly felt the need to defend himself.

"Everyone is scarred, child. Some more than others," he told her softly as he circled her, appraising. He felt her discomfort and hastily introduced her to the Dance of the Snake, a series of exercises and body movements that allowed almost perfect balance, strength and flexibility; it was absolute Mastery of one's body, once you got to Mastery level. That was widely known as the difficult part.

He slowly led her through the first level, his body easily following the commands of his mind. Alanna not so much, she obviously had trouble mastering the positions and for a while he was tempted to give in. To return back to his rooms...but he swiftly came to the conclusion he would be bored. At least training her he could take a chunk of coal and mould it... into a smoother edged chunk of coal...

He lounged casually on a hay bale watching her, noting immediately where her weaknesses were and what exercises he would have her do to eradicate them. Fighting back a smile as she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, he stood. She was panting and exhausted, a sheen of sweet covering her face.

"That's enough for tonight," he answered to her unspoken question. She sagged in relief and panted, her head hanging as he strode from the barn. Standing at the door he gazed up into the falling rain and smiled, lightning illuminated him for a moment, and then he was gone.

**Authors Note:**

**So, it's that time of the year again Merry Christmas! As I am going to be out-of-country over Christmas I thought I had best give you all a chapter before I leave tomorrow. I'm not sure when I will be back, but I'll give you another chapter sometime during January.**

**Booker10: **Welcome, I'm glad you like it

**ZG: ** Unfortunately, it's not going to be good...

**Fang: **Hm, I hadn't thought of that... I guess we will be seeing George soon, hopefully

**Regards CDL**

**SPOLIER!**

The man stood on the cliff face calm in the eye of the storm surrounding him. Lightning flashed and illuminated the frozen rain over him, he remained dry in the tears of the skies and wind snapped his coat out, power glittered across his skin.

Within him, a strange Magic shimmered in glee as a decision was made. Taking a deep breath Raku nodded, though the girl Alanna reminded him of his sister, he would make her the greatest woman in existence, he would make her a Tahakén Princess.


	20. Burden's of a Tahakén Prince

**Burden's of a Tahakén Prince**

Hope is like the sun, which, as we journey toward it, casts the shadow of our burden behind us. **Samuel Smiles**

Thunder cracked inside the earth as the two horses charged down the road. The bay flew across the dirt effortlessly, the roan following suit, straining for more rein. Raku grinned; his mare was fast, though not as fast as the horses he was used to. Next to him Alanna urged her roan faster, her hair streaming out behind her, catching rays of sunlight and giving it a fiery glow.

Suddenly she threw back her head and let the reins go her arms spread as she guided the roan with her knees. Then she reached for the reins once more and tried to regain control of her mount. People scattered from their patch as they rode the road at a gallop, screams were caught by the wind and torn back as they thundered past.

Raku sighed and his smile faded as they reached a small twisted tree and he slowed his bay to a trot. She fought for her head, snorting in excitement, but he easily got her under control. Alanna on the other hand was having trouble, she had her gelding slowed but he didn't like it. He had taken the bit between his teeth and was trying to unseat her. Raku watched as she snarled and pulled harder on the reins.

Feeling power beginning to build he focused on Alanna, and when she hissed "G'vananex", or "Be Still" in the Language of Power he felt his blood run hot and cold and his skin crawled. Thunder boomed and he resisted the urge to cover his ears, swiftly he leapt from his horse, invoking his magic to assist him in the task, and appeared at her side. The roan was paralyzed in fear, unable to disobey the command and his eyes rolled as he fought the urge to run.

He quickly entered her mind and terminated the spell and replenished her dwindling Life Energy, the source of all life, with his Gift. Next he stroked the roan's neck and sent calming fire throughout his body. Then he remounted his mare, in a matter of heartbeats he had gone from mounted to saving Alanna to remounting. Such was the skills of the Princes of Tahakén.

Alanna blinked and straightened and looked about her dazed, but her uncertainty was cast aside by the interruption of the guards. The Lord was a furious shade of purple and he gapped like a fish out of water as he tried to from words. Raku was unaffected; an approaching horseman would see to the Lord and if he needed could erase all the guards memories of what had happened as well as the Lords.

The Knight was Sir Charles of Oakleaf, a large and honourable fief to the south. Sir Charles was a well known Knight and respected for being one of the best, he was also a good friend of the King. He rode his grey stallion easily and visibly approved of Alanna and Raku.

Raku bowed from the saddle to the Knight, subtly motioning Alanna to do the same, after the man spoke. After bowing once more he left the conversation to the Lord and shifted his bay out the way, forcing Alanna's roan over with him.

The Lord was left in a foul mood after the Knight departed and took it out on the smallest person in the party, Alanna. "Ill punish you later," he snarled and kicked his horse sharply in the side. Raku frowned, he was all for punishment, but not when it wasn't deserved.

As they rode into the city walls Raku glanced up towards one of the statues and his eyes narrowed as a figure materialised, bowed mockingly and vanished. Raku straightened and kept his fingers near his blade, it seemed he wasn't the only Tahakén Prince in Merath.

The doors crashed open and a slave cried, "The Prince! He has been slain!," Guards poured into the room to protect the King. A collective groan rose from the nobles before screams were heard and they fled. Alanna caught his eyes for a moment, she looked stunning in coal, and then he turned and ran, feeling ashamed for what he was. In the commotion he never heard a pair of familiar footsteps following him. He fled down the hall and darted between rooms, using his Gift to navigate through walls.

Following the sounds of armour and clanking boots he came to a hall and made himself solid. Taking a deep breath he walked down and turned the corner, guards rushed him, swords drawn. Running out of time he called his gift to his fingers and threw it forward like an emerald wave towards the guards. The first died instantly as fire consumed him and rebounded off the walls back against the guards. They all fell within several seconds and Raku walked forward calmly into the bedroom, its walls were blackened with ash and a musk was heavy in the air.

"Raku," a man snarled and Raku spun, his hand immediately going to his blade and his magic flooding across his skin. Brown eyes and hair framed a bearded face and a feral smile.

Raku glared at the stranger, "Michael," he hissed and drew his sword. His "Brother" the resident Tahakén Prince grinned and advanced on him.

Taking a defensive stance Raku waited for his comrade to indicate his first move.

Michael struck first and sent Raku on the immediate defensive, twisting and turning and matching his brother for every move he made. Their blades met and sparks flew off the swords.

Michael spun around and drove his sword back into Raku, if he had been there. Baring his teeth he began the most complicated manoeuvres he knew, using a combination of Shang, Knight training and dirty street fighting in an attempt to catch his comrade off guard.

Suddenly a scream pierced the air and Michael turned towards the noise, before quickly jerking back. The opening was enough for Raku and he arched his blade up and under. His opponent released his blade and threw his body backwards and then flipped himself out the window, landing easily on his feet. Raku ran to the balcony and launched himself off it and tore after his enemy. Shifting he took cheetah form and raced across the grass, ahead of him Michael had taken monkey form and was navigating the wall. Growing he shifted again and jumped into the air, airborne he changed once more and flew after his brother.

Realising he wasn't about to catch him he threw a bolt of magic at him, his Gift rejoicing in its use. Michael flipped back into human shape, his cloak snapping about him as he deflected the blow. Raku plummeted towards the ground and shifted at the last second, landing in a half crouch with his fist taking the force of his weight.

Michael glared at him, "You will die "brother," he spat as emerald gathered at his fingers.

Tahakén slaves were all trained in the Gift and all of its uses. To achieve the higher of the ranks, Tahakén Royalty, you had to have passed Mastery in Magic use. Raku and Michael each were the equivalent of a Black Robe Mage, several of them, and each knew every spell written and had made a few of them themselves. Such a battle would never have been seen and wouldn't be seen after. The Master didn't like University fools prying into his business so he rarely had his "Pets" publicly kill any of their Mages. It bought baggage he was too lazy to clean.

Identical fire flared at Raku's fingers and he slowly inched closer. Brown eyes narrowed on him, Raku was the superior in the combat arts, though magically he was weaker. A fact his twin was prepared to use to his advantage.

Thunder with no sound exploded in the air about them and a wall of green fire shimmered around Raku as a tornado, the length of the castle, sprang forward from Michael's upraised palms. Raku winched at the ferocity of the attack and opened his arms, mimicking his brother. Green fire charged to attack the tornado and tendrils of it were drawn away until it collapsed. Then he clapped his hands together, and lightening flashed from his fingers.

He didn't wait to see what his opponent did and spun away, kicking his right leg up and pivoting on his left. As he turned he bought his hands up and around, his right arm following his foot. He leapt up, narrowly missing the missile thrown back at him, and landed, his right foot taking his weight and he coiled into a ball before snapping his open palm forward towards his brother.

A wall of power erupted from his right hand and swooped down on Michael, Michael frowned and his voice was lost to the roar of the winds as the wall fell on him.

The slaves of Tahakén were taught many different methods on Magic use. Magic without words, without spells, Magic without using your Gift, taught how to use the Magic in the elements around you.

Some spells were swift, easy to create and prepare and their damage catastrophic. Others took longer and did less damage and more others were a range in between, using the variety of teachings taught.

Magic such as the one Raku had just used were like a Rhino, when compared to the animal world. In regarding its charge, the spell was slow to create, compared to many, but when it got going it was difficult to stop. Raku used this spell now because his brother excelled him in Magical Combat and because he didn't yet want to use his Gift on a powerful spell Michael could easily deflect or turn on its caster.

Abruptly the spell dissipated and Michael stood in the centre of a charred ring, his clothes and hair dishevelled, the air about him had frozen. A smile crossed the corner of his face and the water particles within the air about him turned frosty. Shards of ice slowly rose and moulded into millions of tiny spear heads that began to hesitantly spin. He threw his palm forward with a yell and Raku knelt, placed his hand on the ground and then jerked his arm back up.

A wall of earth erupted from the dirt and covered Raku in layers as the shards of ice closed in on him. Straightening from his crouch Raku slammed both his fists into the wall of earth and emerald rippled across its unnaturally smooth face. Two great forepaws followed by a large furry head emerged from the stone and powered by a great furry body, loped towards Michael. The Earth-Bear reached mid-point between them and as he charged forward a pair of jaws erupted from the ground and clamped around the bears hind-leg. There was a roar of thunder as the bear spun around to face its emerging opponent.

The Wolf growled and hackles raised circled the Bear, the sound of rocks colliding rumbling from its chest. Raku glared and swiftly raised his arms as a fire tornado birthed in the air about him. Mentally swearing at the swift depletion of his gift and reserves he realised he would lose this one, like the many before, he would be defeated by his brother.

Stumbling away from comets of fire he fled into the bushes nearby, following the life patterns around him until he came upon a clear stream. Taking a deep breath he dove into the shimmering water and powerfully swam to the riverbed. A warped shadow announced the arrival of his brother, as did the fireballs thrown into the water.

Raku slowly straightened from his crouch and stood calmly as rock burst from the riverbed and covered his feet, holding him to the bottom. His arms flat at his side he altered the water surrounding his head and breathed easily. Grinning in a bubble, he threw up his arms and roared a challenge. Water rose from the crystal surface and shifted into a torso and head, two arms burst from the torso and the hands formed a fist.

The arm lifted up before slamming down towards Michael, who was watching nonchalantly as the figure of water materialised in the stream before him, before his eyes shifted and he dove out of the way. Growling he mimicked the spell his brother used and the earth rose around him to form an identical figure to that dripping above the riverbed. Thrusting his fist forward his earth self swung its boulder calluses towards the waiting water-Raku. Raku raised his arms and caught Michael's punch at the wrist; he knocked it off course and retaliated with an uppercut.

Michael danced to the side and sent a spinning kick towards his head. Raku ducked and spun around, flipping himself onto his left hand and kicked up at the elbow twisting towards him. The water and earth warriors matched their maker's movements and the roaring of water or the rumbling of rocks sounded when each was struck.

Raku's Gift faltered before flaring back again as he withdrew the stored magic in the jewels adorning his fingers. Michael barked a harsh laugh, "You cannot and will not beat me, brother."

He uttered a spell and his warrior leapt forward and pinned Raku's, then he shifted his form. The ice warrior spat shards of ice into the earth's face, but remained immobile. The earth warrior changed into a great serpent and coiled itself around the ice. Grinning, Michael tightened his hold, he would shatter the ice.

"You know," he began conversationally, "The Master is always looking for "new meat". The ice warrior began to crack and miniature rainfalls of water began to flow from the cracks. Raku slowly swam to the streams surface as his magic reached a dangerous low and dragged himself into shore, he was beaten.

The earth serpent coiled tighter around the fractured ice warrior and then with a final squeeze the warrior shattered, shards of ice exploding and rippling out. Hissing, the serpent slunk back down until three-quarters of its body rested on the earth. Michael absently stroked its head as he past and it folded itself back into the earth that gave it birth.

Raku coughed as he turned over and gazed up into the canopy, streaks of sunlight filtering through the trees and lighting the element battle ground in a golden haze. His eyes flickered and he forced himself over, the blade hidden in his boot digging into his ankle. Shudders ran through his body and as he rose to his feet, blood began to snake its way from his nostrils.

Michael halted before him and looked him over with scornful eye, "You always were the weaker, brother."

Raku coughed, a bone rattling sob, and eyed his twin, "Valuing life is not weakness, Tamsin knew this." Michael's eyes narrowed, and he gripped Raku around the collar, lifting him off the ground he pulled his face close.

"Don't you_dare_mention her name, "he snarled, his face contorting in fury.

Raku's life force flickered and dimmed as the remaining magic within him fought to keep him alive, "Why? Are you afraid?" he asked, a smile crossing his face as Michael visibly balked.

"No," he snapped, "I fear nothing," though he could not stop his eyes from wandering around the clearing.

Raku groaned in pain, "You were wrong," he whispered as Michael threw him to the ground.

The Tahakén Prince glared at his brother, "No, what I did was right!"

Raku forced his dying body into a kneeling position, knowing if he laid on his back he would drown in his own blood, "Then why don't you sound convinced?"

Michael said nothing, though his boot connected with Raku's face and sent him sprawling. Raku gazed up into the blue sky and sighed. Closing his eyes he waited for it to end, waited so he could be at peace. He felt, rather than heard, Michael come to stand above him and fingering the hilt of his dagger absently.

A crushing force constricted his breathing and Raku relaxed, knowing it would be over soon.

He sat on the edge of a cliff, the cliff nearest to his child hood home and breathed in the salty air. Waves crashed against the wrinkled faces below him and down the track he heard footsteps. Laughter reached his ears and he turned and saw his little sister as she towards him. Emerald eyes and waves of dark hair mirrored his own, and further down the track he saw his twin, Michael, watching them with a smile on his face.

"Ra," she gurgled, her round cherub face shinning in joy as she ran up to him.

He smiled down at her and picked her up, swinging her around, "Tamsin," he laughed as she pressed her face into his cheek, ignoring the funny pressure on his neck.

"It's a shame," he heard from a distance and suddenly he was on the ground, his sister's face peering worriedly at him. And then he was falling and falling, trying to clutch at the never-ending walls of darkness.

"You could have redeemed yourself, that girl salve your fond of, she could have given you a chance back into The Masters good graces," Michaels voice hardened, "You could have trained _her_ and we could have seen who's student was the best. Pity neither they nor you will live to find out."

Suddenly his fall halted and Raku looked about him. It was darker than the darkest of nights, devoid of all light and Raku realized that this was Death. He rose to his feet and waited, feeling something approaching. A light, like that of candle kilometres away, was slowly appearing. As he peered into the shadows he saw the light wasn't a candle, it was a person, a woman, in a white dress. So white it burned at a glance that Raku couldn't look. Steadily the light grew, pushing away the darkness, as the woman walked towards him. Unable to look anymore he shut his eyes and hid his head in his elbow, the light unbearable.

Suddenly the light dimed and he felt a hand on his shoulder, looking up he froze. Emerald eyes gazed at him and long brown hair cascaded over her right shoulder in pony tail.

Silenced stretched for heartbeats and then he flung his arms around her, his little sister and wept unashamedly. She returned his hug and then gently pulled away to look at him.

'Ra," she whispered, her voice echoing softly in the Death around them.

Raku couldn't speak; he could only gaze at her in wonder.

"You have to go back," she smiled sadly and Raku came to his senses.

"No, Tamsin, I'm sorry for what I did, I should have done more. I should have," he trailed off. Yes, he should have done more. But he hadn't.

She pulled away and began to walk away; Raku hesitated and then quickly followed her. As she walked, the shadows shifted and morphed and slowly formed to the element battleground. Michael materialised with his boot crushing Raku's body and Tamsin walked over to him and gazed at him softly before turning back to Raku.

'You have to go back," she repeated, glancing down at his body. Raku followed her gaze and looked away uncomfortable.

"Why?" he rasped and she turned her emerald eyes on him. Suddenly his vision swam and they were soaring above a boat with crimson sails and an ebony hull, the Red Sun. They dropped and landed easily on the deck, crew members manning the sails and scrubbing the floors. The Captain stood on the bow spirit talking easily to a girl facing the dawn. Sunlight gave her copper locks a scarlet tinge and when she turned wind blew strands across her face. She brushed it back and smiled straight at the Captain with amethyst eyes. Raku stiffened, it seemed as though she was gazing straight at him.

Alanna got to her feet and drifted easily past the hulking and fearsome Captain and he raised his arm. Raku growled and clenched his fists, forgetting he was only an apparition, if he _hurt_ her... The Captain slung an arm over the girl and laughed at something she said and then they walked straight through Tamsin as she stood watching Raku watch them.

Tamsin let him watch as they disappeared into the hatch and then catapulted them back to the clearing.

"She is important to the future, brother," she said sadly, "and her training must reflect on her role."

Raku stiffened; he had an idea what "training" she would undertake under his instruction.

"What role is she to play? Tell me, can you see the future?" he asked curiously, for though the magic he had been exposed to over the years gave predictions, it was never completely accurate.

Tamsin smiled and shook her head, "I do not know, and nor could I tell you if I did."

Raku sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, "I would do anything for you, you know that."

Emerald eyes saddened and she took his hand to her cheek, "I know. That is why you refused to train me…" she turned to look at the frozen Michael, "why you allowed Michael to do it."

Raku flinched and looked away; he couldn't stop the shame flooding him, and scuffed his boots.

"I am sorry for what he did to you," he confessed hoarsely, "If I had known-".

Tamsin cut him off, "The past is the past, Raku. We must look forward now."

Raku nodded and took a deep breath, "What is it you want me to do?"

"Alanna, formally of Trebond and Tortall, must assume the mantle of Tahaken Royalty," she announced clearly.

Raku blanched and raised an eyebrow, "Lady?" he asked, and waited for the answer he feared.

"Princess, " Tamsin replied, her green eyes grim, "She will be the first and the last, " she paused, "If she does not break." She focused the full power of her eyes on him, "You are to see that she does _not_ break, she cannot!"

Raku cringed away from the other worldly power in that command and her eyes flashed silver before swirling back to emerald. "The God's plan has been disrupted," she spoke softly; "they are not pleased and have chosen a new."

Raku frowned; he was not a pawn of the Gods, to be used as they pleased! Tamsin eyed him and suddenly grinned, "You will do as the Gods command. If you do, I will be freed."

Raku's eyes widened in surprise, "What do you mean by freed?"

Tamsin took a step forward, "I will no longer belong to the Dark God, I will be free from Death. That is the Gods offer".

So happy was Raku he missed the hesitation in her words or the flick of her eyes heavenward.

Raku nodded, "Okay," his grin was infectious and Tamsin smiled back at him and kissed him on the check, Raku never felt the stirring of a strange magic seep into his skin.

She glanced over at Michael, "You will have to rid yourself of him, he is delaying the path." Raku nodded and looked at his brother.

"Tell him-", Tamsin hesitated, "-tell him I love him and forgive him." She walked over to the trail and turned, she raised her hand in goodbye and then she was gone.

Raku opened his eyes and gazed without fear at Michael as his brother tried to crush his throat. His finger tightened on the blade at his ankle, his sister needed him! With a growl he threw the remainder of his strength and Gift into the move. His blade came up and thrust into Michael's leg, the blade was special, when used by an experienced user it stole the Gift of whoever's blood it touched.

Raku felt Michaels power, and that of the others who's Gift he had stolen, and drew it into him, down the blade of the dagger, through the hilt and into himself. His limbs immediately stopped shaking and Michaels, no his, Gift began to heal his crushed windpipe. Strength flooding his body, he threw his brother off him and flipped himself to his feet. Michael lay winded and in shock as he gazed at the blade sticking into his thigh, "What have you done?" he shrieked as he realized he was without his beloved Gift.

Raku said nothing and walked over to him, brimming with power he hauled Michael to his feet and withdrew the dagger with his other hand.

Then he held the blade up near his twin's throat, gripping the hilt he drew it back and thrust it down onto his brother's skin, leaving an ugly gash along the side of his face.

"She forgives you, Brother," he spat, and turned around, dropping the defeated Prince, "For that your life is spared."

Then he walked away, leaving Michael clutching his face and cursing him, vowing he would pay for this and this wasn't redemption.

The man stood on the cliff face calm in the eye of the storm surrounding him. Lightning flashed and illuminated the frozen rain over him, he remained dry in the tears of the skies and wind snapped his coat out, power glittered across his skin.

Within him, a strange Magic shimmered in glee as a decision was made. Taking a deep breath Raku nodded, though the girl Alanna reminded him of his sister, he would make her the greatest woman in existence, he would make her a Tahakén Princess.

**Author's Note:**

ZulaGirl: Thankyou!

CotB: Thankyou! Like the Magic Raku's got? :D

Fang: I know, it is seriously depressing. Some stories have 14 chaps and 100 reviews. I nearly die when I see that...

Review people! A little short, but the next chapters will make up for it


	21. Spellbound AND 2xSPOILER!

Spellbound

**There are several types of people in this land. Those that fight until they are broken and submit; those that fight until they have noting and submit; and those that fight until they have nothing and fight on, for they have nothing left, it's the only thing they know how to do.**

For Alanna, formally of Trebond and Tortall, her "training" consisted of pain, pain and more pain. She had thought she knew of pain, for surely there was nothing quite like a lashing, accept maybe childbirth which she had never seen or experienced and she did not plan to, but she was wrong. She didn't know how long she had been here, to be honest it didn't really matter, all that mattered was the pain. It never ended, long had her screams become soundless and she barely had the strength to moan as she endured her torture.

At first she had begged and pleaded for Him to stop, He wouldn't, He would only scorn her and argue she was weak, that in time this wouldn't hurt, not once she progressed. And she understood that, slightly. He had started her off light, which in its own way was torture, for she knew if this was light, then what was the torture to become like.

She tried not to think of things like that, but like her imprisonment, she didn't have a choice. It was starting to become clear, she didn't have a choice. She was nothing, nobody, only a slave. She didn't own anything, she was worth nothing, she didn't even own herself. Raku did, she referred to him as... well, "Him". "He" worked fine also.

And now, reflecting on her sorrows, her misery, hanging from the ceiling with her arms dislocated and chained above her, she realised she was worthless. Her life, her dream as a Knight had come down to nothing, all her training and practice had come down to nothing. And it crushed, it really did just as she had cried from the pain, she now cried from sorrow.

As the years wore on her... love slowly turned to scorn and then into hate. How she hated them, every single one of them! For ruining her dreams and leading her to her current position, right now she was without her nails and was once again hanging above the ground. It seemed to be one of His favourite torture methods.

Today, she was in the midst of a weeklong session, a session of endurance and strength. And pain, always pain. A long stake, barely rounded to avoid piercing, rested just below her left foot and above her head her right thumb was taking her body weight.

It was called The Picquet and wasn't really used for damage; this torture method was primarily for pain. It was designed so that when her strength faded, or the pain got to her, she would lower her weight onto her foot when the agony on her thumb became too much. Then she would hurriedly raise her weight back onto her thumb before her strength betrayed her and she could only moan in pain as her weight rested fully on the stake.

To keep her mind off the pain, her request of literature had been approved, for The Master and subsequently Raku, believed in "knowledge is power".

Her learning at this current moment was _Lore's of Magic: the Realms of The Gods and Immortal Creatures_ and was virtually an instruction manual on how to act and speak to various Gods and also all habits and magic of all Immortals. It also spoke of the difference between the two "Immortal's".

The Gods, animal and Human, were called Immortal for should they be slain they would be immediately reborn in an identical form. The book then continued on to examine and explore every single Immortal that could be slain by arrow, spear, magic and blade, and their creation.

Having never seen any Immortals she eagerly read everything about them, even the ones she feared, for Raku had come by to observe her progress and had seen the book turn a page about Stormwing's and had chastised her. Her face had burned at his statement as she knew what he said to be true and had returned to the Stormwing page and had read with determination.

Her interest aroused she continued reading, the glow off a fire _kindly_ lit to keep her warm adding little to the books glowing surface. It was truly magnificent, an unimaginable Masterpiece. By daylight the ink remained as dark as coal on pure pearl-white parchment and by night, when light was absent, the letters turned gold and glowed brightly against the darkness. The drawings of each immortal were replica of their real-life counterparts with arrows revealing weaknesses and strengths, along with precise scripting describing each feature.

Alanna blinked as she realised this was in fact an instruction manual of how to capture, imprison and enslave and kill immortals. It showed examples of how it had been done in the past, methods used and what went well and what didn't. She learnt that lying was impossible around Griffins and that their feathers, when used in arrows, heighten accuracy and, if worn, allow the wearer to be impervious to magical illusions.

The book offered cures for the undetectable poison from the saliva of flesh eating unicorns and that giant, winged, legless lizards that breath a yellow fog that gives humans a dry, long-lasting cough and makes their eyes burn and blur were called Wyvern's and only the command of their cousins, the Dragons, could turn them away.

For Dragons she learnt they were intelligent, learning from scrolls and books, and were sophisticated magic users who's scales changed colour depending on their mood.

After a few days, it could have been years, Alanna was lowered to the floor and released from her chains. She slumped forward, her thumb swollen and raw and her foot bruised and tender, unable to stand.

Raku examined her calmly, his green eyes unreadable, before lifting her easily to her feet and dragging her away. Forced to walk on her battered feet she resolutely followed her Master, tears streaming down her face as she refused to cry out. He led her into the castle, a great mould of coal that rising into the clouds never failed to fill her with awe and fear, and down several floors into the earth.

The tunnels were lit with flaming torches, forever licking at the walls fuelled by the millennia's of Master's reigning over the land and their endless supply of magic.

Several chambers opened as they walked and Alanna peered into them curiously as she was half dragged behind Raku. Her fear mounted as she saw people running back and forward to a gongs sound, when she saw them dragging great lumps of stone and when she saw them being beaten with staffs.

Raku turned to a right angles chamber, "Fear not," his voice was cold, like the Tortallan winters and she had learned to hate the sound, "this isn't the Chamber's of Pain. This is the Heart of Endurance, not torture exactly."

Alanna wasn't convinced, though experience led her to bite her tongue. They came to an old wooden door and it swung open easily, betraying its evident activity.

The room was big, about the size of the Tortallan ball room and stank of sweat even though there was a constant breeze and thermals rising from the room.

Several slaves, who looked decidedly well feed and cared for, were pumping their legs on two stands that turned a chain that in turn turned two big drums. The slaves were breathing evenly and were only covered in a light sheen of sweat, their thighs and calves bugled compared to the rest of their wiry bodies.

Raku ignored them as he led Alanna over to a previously unnoticed hole in the floor. The slaves stopped moving at Raku's command and watched guardedly as Alanna walked over to the hole. She blanched as she saw a carpet of sorts slowly rise up as it slowed its spinning. Glancing from the slaves to the carpet she realised that they were making it move.

Raku motioned for her to stand on the carpet, she did so reluctantly, spears of pain shooting up through the souls of her feet.

"You will not stop until I tell you to or let you, you will not stop until you slip into unconsciousness, nor will you stop when the slaves change shift. You will run on the spot until they start moving again," Alanna blinked without comprehension.

Raku smiled, a cruel smile, relishing in the power he had over another being, a magic, not his own, forcing his feelings into a vault.

"Should you stop, you will scream without pause for three days and three nights," he informed her, his voice nonchalant.

Alanna gulped, her brain still mulish and nodded.

"Oh, and before I go," Raku leaned over and in a swift movement broke Alanna's wrists, she screamed and fell, leaving the echoing crack to linger in the room.

"Remember," Raku warned, "should you stop, the pain you are now feeling you would welcome over the other I have planned."

A ring of emerald fire curtained around the ring, "Don't touch the fire," his voice mocking, Raku left with one finger then another shown to the slaves. They bowed him out from their seated positions, then they began to move their legs, forcing the soles of their feet against the stirrups.

Alanna jerked as the carpet beneath her began to move and she painfully hauled herself to her feet and began to stumble along, trying to keep in the middle of the carpet, away from the shimmering walls of emerald.

She walked until she dropped, the pain unbearable but the fear of pain keeping her going until she could no longer move. First the speed had been slow, a walking pace and she had been okay with that, shuffling along but then after about an hour the pace changed and she was forced to move faster, a speed between a slow jog or trot and a fast walk. This made her gate unsteady as she couldn't find a balance between the two and her foot jarred every time she put weight on it.

As she fell the last time she lay gasping into the carpet, her lungs burning with heat and her pulse thundering in her ears. And when she slid into the wall she didn't have the breath to scream, she only panted as agony washed over her in waves, the pain from her broken and swollen wrists and her toe and her thumb all made inferior.

Slipping into unconsciousness she briefly wondered if He would kill her, and then sent a brief prayer to the Great Goddess that He would.

Alanna gazed determinedly at the floor, humiliation sweeping through her as she avoided the eyes peering at her. Raku appeared nonchalant as he le

d her across the room and gestured for her to sit next to his chair. She obeyed immediately, shifting her head so that her hair covered her breasts and sat with her legs crossed with her hands on her lap.

Raku glanced down and raised an eyebrow at her attempt to conceal her nakedness but let her continue as he helped himself to some wine. Alanna's stomach growled as scents wafted to her nose as slaves came through closed doors, their arms burdened with great feasts.

Plates materialised at seats and at the occupants gestures food broke off and settled on bowls and plates. Alanna refused to look up, to met anyone's eyes, not even the slaves. Cutlery chinked as The Master's Council and teachers and slaves of highest rank began their meal.

Raku raised his arm and a slave materialised at his elbow, she was in surprisingly good condition, clad in nothing but a loincloth and she looked as though she was feed regularly. Raku spoke in a low voice and she vanished, Alanna didn't strain to hear or translate what was said but merely waited, ravenous and longing for the meals out of reach.

The slave returned carrying a stool and waited behind her, Raku gestured for her to place to stool where Alanna was sitting and waited as Alanna refused to move. Eventually he tired of her lack of movement and barked at her to move.

She quickly moved at the order and stood aside as the slave swiftly placed the stool next to Raku and disappeared. Alanna eyed the stool warily as the remained standing, still refusing to acknowledge the others in the room. "Sit," Raku growled. Alanna sat.

Clasping her hands in her lap she kept her back straight and stared at the blank table before her. She flinched as a plate settled in her spot and felt her anticipation rise before she quickly quelled it. Raku wasn't going to feed her, not any of this delicious food. She was only good enough for scraps, but still she couldn't douse the ember of hope within her empty and cramping belly.

A second slave appeared carrying a steaming bowl and placed it before her. Raku watched her from the corner of his eye as he bit into a chicken leg.

Clasping her hands Alanna tried to ignore the smell hovering beneath her nose and closed her eyes, her embarrassment at her nakedness banished.

"Eyes open," Raku instructed and Alanna obeyed, finally looking at the meal before her. Large pieces of meat were surrounded by leafy green vegetables and a healthy dripping of red sauce covered them. Alanna's mouth watered and she instinctively leaned forward before remembering her place and she straightened. It wasn't the most appetizing meal she had ever seen or had, but compared to the tasteless soups and scraps she had been eating it looked divine.

Raku nodded his head and she dove for her knife and fork, though slowed at his command, "Not like a barbarian!"

Savouring the first mouthful she swallowed and sighed in pleasure, the taste was unusual, probably one of the various beasts from Tahakén, and the sauce had a strange metallic aftertaste, but she ignored it in light of the hot meal she was enjoying.

Raku had stilled and was watching her with something like amusement as she ate swiftly. Snorting he returned back to his own meal and from the corner of her eyes Alanna saw him reach for his goblet, catching her eye he smiled suddenly and raised his goblet.

Suddenly the smile vanished from his face and he stood, his chair crashed to the floor and Alanna rose to her feet to shift behind him. The doors burst open in a flash of light and the occupants shielded their eyes, all but Alanna, who had not been given permission to do so, and Raku.

A man with dishevelled brown hair and an unkempt beard stood in the doorway, his green eyes flashing with furry.

"Raku!" His voice boomed around the room and Alanna fell to her knees in pain as his voice roared in her head.

Raku's power flared across his skin and he pointed at the man, bellowing a word. Magic exploded in the room as the man deflected the blow; various Masters, Council members and slaves fled as wind and lightening ripped about the room. Alanna crawled for the doors, only to find they had been locked and she was trapped in the room as the two Mage's battled.

Hiding behind one of the pillars she watched in rapid fascination as the two men threw their Gift's at each other. Noticed only by Alanna, for she was looking in its direction, a form began to morph in the goblet of fire above the door and as Alanna glanced between it and the two mages she noticed a window.

Between an interlude in the fighting Alanna made a break for the window. The stranger saw her and barked a sentence; the floor beneath Raku turned to water and he fell into nothing as the floor covered over. Then Alanna went flying, she slammed against a pillar and saw stars as her head cracked, only the "training" she had received kept her conscious as she swam through the pain.

Cracks raced through the marble and it shuddered, Alana blinked and rolled away as small shards began to drop to the ground. Abruptly a larger piece fell and would have landed on her had she not moved.

A word echoed around her and her blood sang as she was lifted off her feet and dropped fiercely back onto the tiles, she screamed as her bones cracked and broke.

Gasping for breath, a thought ran through her head. Had she not been "trained" she would be dead, the pain too much for her body to bear.

Coughing she brought her fingers to her lips and they came away moist with blood. Breathing hard she consoled herself, soon she would die, the strangers intent was obvious and it would all be over.

Something inside her rebelled as she gazed at the quickly forming puddle of crimson dripping from her chin, and as she had once decided long ago in the Tortallan Prince's rooms, she was a warrior!

Drawing on her reserves she hauled herself to her feet and straightened as she glowered at the stranger. Forcing the pain, the weakness, down she shifted into her newly learned fighting stance. Her hands were easily at her side and her feet balance shoulder-width apart, she bared her teeth in a challenge and watched as a blade of air shot towards her with something similar to relief.

Peace washed over her and she closed her eyes, allowing the feeling to flood her completely.

She stood alone, everywhere and nowhere. She could have been on a beach glowing in the sunset, atop a mountain watching a storm thunder beneath her, on a star filled flat plain with lush grass beneath her feet or within a glass palace as the shafts of dawn pierced the horizon. She was everything and nothing, never had she felt so small and yet so big.

Abruptly the waves on the beach began to rage, a blizzard was born atop the mountain, fog ghosted across the plains and cracks entered the glass.

Discord had entered her world, like a ripple in a pond it spread and grew as it approached her.

Her eyes snapped open and instinct guided her hand and memory moved her body. She pulled her right hand closer to her body as her legs kicked up and spun her around to the right, her left arm smoothly flowing through the air around her as she moved. Completing a full turn she took a step forward, following her left fist and released her magic.

Power crack and she was flung backward at the force of her entire magical life form being released. Above the doors, centred between the stranger and Alanna the form in the fire swooped down, getting snared in Alanna's Gift as it raced towards the man.

The wall cracked at the force in which she hit it and she slid down to the ground, watching as though she was through someone else's eyes as her Gift collided with the fallen fire form. She felt a searing pain throughout her body, as though she was being burnt alive and worse, for she had been burnt alive, and then there was nothing. Closing her eyes she smiled as she slipped into a cool embrace.

There eventually came a day, just one of the many she had faced and was to face, when she was summoned to The Master's chambers.

Nervously she made her way to the Masters chambers, outside she waited, casting glances to the two guards at the door as she examined herself in the mirror. Death Walkers made her skin crawl and their ember eyes frightened her more than the deadly mix of magic and body parts that made them, their eyes whispered death.

She looked different, that much was certain. The muscle she had lost since her banishment from Tortall had regained, though it wasn't as defined as it was before but she was stronger, the Heart of Endurance exercises had seen to that.

Her hair was long and, when untied from its normal braid, fell down her shoulders to the curve in her back, it was red. Not the copper she had been born with, years of eating red berries from the Red Berry tree had slowly tainted her hair, and once those in command had seen the effects they "insisted" she wash her hair with it. Now her hair was the colour of blood, bright and crimson.

She didn't mind, she no longer cared for her looks, lot that she did before but if people stared she would stare them down until they looked away.

Years of toiling in the fields of Tahakén, and within the Deserts to the south along with the jungle and mountains to the north and east had caused her skin to maintain a balance between a sickly pale and a dark brown turning her skin a golden colour. Her eyes were still a vibrant purple and her lips were a soft red, and, to her great annoyance she was still short.

Snarling at her reflection Alanna turned back to the door.

A bell flared above the doorway and the two Death Walkers glanced at each other before stepping to each side, away from the doors, a ring of black smoke fogged beneath their clawed feet. Alanna drew a breath and smoothed her facial features as she walked beneath the two gleaming weapons and into the Master's Chambers, the doors opening for her entry.

Swallowing she entered the room, the doors closing behind her as she examined the people that turned to stare at her. The Master eyed her cockily from his scaled throne, Raku stood at-attention next to him and in various chairs were The Masters' own commanders and advisors and others of higher rank.

The Tahakén ranks were fairly simple, The Master was at the top; obeyed by all, followed by those slaves that reached rank of Prince or Lord and then the Council of Anake followed by the various commanders and Masters of Craft. Anyone could learn off the Masters of Craft, their skills ranged from Masonry to Etiquette, Herb Lore and even Dancing, they had only one purpose; to teach.

The slaves rarely took advantage of their eternal years and Masters at their disposal, choosing, on their days without torture, to recover and relax. The council disapproved of the slaves taking classes, though it wasn't forbidden, it was discouraged. As of the new Masters reign the Masters of Craft had been hired out to whoever had gold and they taught classes.

However it was well known The Master liked his slaves all-knowing and intelligent so once a certain rank was achieved they were trained in whatever The Master wanted. It pleased him to command individuals better than any other in any craft, he often entered them in competitions and losing was not an option...

"You are late," The Master spoke, it wasn't a question but Alanna's mouth got away from her.

"You're early, I am right on time," she snapped as she mirrored Raku's stance. Raku closed his eyes as she spoke and briefly glanced heavenward before regaining control of himself.

The Master seemed amused, his Council however weren't pleased and immediately they were clamouring for her punishment.

The Master let them speak before halting them with his voice, "It seems your flippancy has yet to be beaten from you," Alanna glared at him as he continued, "Never mind, what I have planned for you will see to that."

Alanna's blood turned to ice, The Master wasn't a man to make false threats or statements.

She clenched her jaw and stared nonchalantly back at him, ordering her face to remain blank.

"Wish you were taller, do you?' Alanna paled; The Master's off-hand comments were very rarely without retribution.

Raku seemed annoyed with The Master for some reason, bordering on furious and for a moment she smirked at him, knowing he would punish her later, but finding the glare he shot her worth it.

"You're engaged," a lanky balding man, announced suddenly.

Alanna choked, she was what!

A sudden coughing fit left her unable to answer The Master as he asked her how she felt about that. Next to him, Raku grumbled and shifted on his feet, rolling his powerful shoulders.

Alanna swiftly recovered under The Master's glare and straightened, hiding her shock and mortification beneath a shifting mask.

"I'm sorry, I think I misunderstood you," she began, mentally crossing her fingers, "I think I just heard you say I am engaged. Now that you have my _full_ attention, please retract that statement and tell me why I am really here."

The Master watched her, amusement; as rare as a star above Tahakén, gleaming in his eyes. He unfolded himself and towered above the others in the room, "Yes, you are to marry the Baron of fief Saigon."

Alanna balked and glared at him, "You're joking," she said flatly.

This time The Master smiled, and Alanna bit her lip and balled her fists as the man who had told her she was to be married, spoke, "No. You are to be married."

Alanna growled as The Master added, "The Master of Etiquette will teach you everything that will be required of the position you are pretending to be, and you _will_ learn it." The Master's tone left no room for questioning and she knelt as she was dismissed.

Outside she waited for the doors to close before screaming in furry and slamming her fist into the nearest wall, merely a hairs-width away from one of the Death Walker's face. It blinked in surprise and shifted on its feet but otherwise remained neutral to her actions.

Yelling again she proceeded to pummel the wall with her fists until they began to bleed and then, further enraged she punched harder and harder until the splits in her knuckles pulled her skin wider and her fists were swollen. Finally stopping she straightened, nodded to the Death Walkers and walked away, her wrists swollen and bleeding, her bones broken.

Returning to her rooms she found a slave, of higher rank than she, waiting with healing salve and cloth. The girls face was shrunken and pale and her body lean and frail, she stood hunched as though expecting a blow at any moment.

Alanna looked at her for a second and then sighed and crossed the marble floor to sit on her cell-bed. Her room was the same as every other slave-to-be-broken room. It consisted of a single large room and a smaller one branching off it.

The large room was circular in shape with brackets, containing sadistic looking torture devices, on the walls and chests resting against them. A rectangular steel plate was raised off the ground by four sturdy poles and chains were locked onto manacles. The floor slopped on a slight angle, this was for cleaning purposes as this room was the general living area of the slave and blood never ceased to be washed from the tiles.

Above the bed were a series of pulleys, their design was such so that any part of the body, and the room, could be reached. The floor was hard, harder than the bunk and at times it would burn on account of the fire set beneath it, so though the cot was uncomfortable, it was preferable over burns. On one wall there was a gap and looking at it you could see the bed would fit easily into the space if it were turned.

The room branching off was even less appealing, called The Box it was small about as wide as the door opening to it, and only as tall as Alanna's chest. To fit inside you would have to fold your body up into a ball and squeeze yourself even smaller; there you would stay in pitch darkness until the torturer decided you could come out.

Usually Alanna would recite the various books and scrolls she had learned to memorise, sometimes she would recite spells and even create her own for future practice.

Like her time in "The Box" Alanna was unsure how long she had been at Tahakén, but she knew it was stretching well into a second millennia. How she knew, she didn't know but she guessed it had something to do with the _Fleo un somnuiis ex obrie _celebration every thousand years. The celebration was held when a star, brighter than the sun, crossed the sky and, seeing as she had arrived shortly before one and that another was approaching, she guessed her years between one to one and a half thousand.

Tahakén was always shrouded in darkness, the only light that of lightening or for the twelve hours the celebration was held. All other light was manmade; there was no sun and no stars, unless you decided to cross the boundaries of the castle, Tahakén, and into the lands beyond.

The fields around the castle were difficult to farm, difficult meaning virtually impossible. The only source of natural light was once every thousand years so the slaves that worked the fields had to travel to Desert Perfeleatios with great round plates of polished bronze and capture the sun. They would then return and release the sun onto the fields via great pulleys and the process would repeat itself. Gathering water was just as difficult, if not harder.

The Master had decreed that only water from the Mountains of Revanah would suffice, and so the slaves had to trek to the mountains and back, carrying the water themselves. Beasts of burden were available for use, but the slaves were not permitted to use them, the tasks were done manually. Alanna knew this from firsthand experience, having spent about a century toiling at each slave task.

She shuddered and was brought back from her musing by the slave clearing her throat. Alanna blinked and shook herself and obediently offered her hands to be cleansed and bandaged and let her thoughts wander.

"Hm?," she asked of the slave as she realised she had been spoken to.

"I said, 'it's not all that bad."

Alanna's eyes narrowed on her and she raised an eyebrow.

"You are going to marry a Lord, you will be away from this place," the slave explained gesturing to Alanna's cell. Alanna looked around her and sighed, acknowledging the slaves words. Yes she would be the timid wife and obey her husband, but... she wouldn't be tortured! Though her fate was the life she had been avoiding by going to Corus, maybe it wouldn't be too bad?

**Authors Note:**

**Can anyone draw? Wanna draw the dress? lol Also, something crutial happened in this chapter, see if you can spot it :)**

**ZG:** I am curious to your selection of words. **"Grow"** was an interesting choice... do you happen to see into the future? :P (Let's see if anyone else actually reads the A/N ) Poor, poor Raku... ;)

** Harunomiya: **Glad you like it

**Fang:** It's always a pleasure. Review's give me a fuzzy feeling So don't you DARE stop!

** Elaive:** Thank you! More as requested * bows low*

Oh, and the next chapter is called _Heart Broken_ so keep an eye out :D

**~SPOILER~**

Here Myles hesitated and George turned from the window, "Tell them the rest," he rasped.

Myles looked like he was in pain as he added, "The purpose is to torture, to take to the brink of death and beyond, in as most pain as possible, for centuries upon centuries. Until there is nothing left."

There were several moments silence, "So she is dead?

George answered the Queen, "The fate of the Slaves of Slaves, as they are sometimes called, is a fate not even the most vile and repulsive beings deserve. The Queen of Chaos would be more merciful."

George halted and looked back out the window adding softly, so softly the others strained to hear, "I hope she is dead. If she is not, we should pray that she will be, and soon."

**Originally that ^^^ was to be the Spoiler, but ya know what? You'll be reading that next, so it isn't **_**really **_**a spoiler. This (below) you will have to wait for Mwahahahahaha **

**Read away!**

Alanna opened her eyes in puzzlement and found herself facing a muscular, but scared, chest. Realising she had fallen asleep, and in Raku's arms, she blushed and tried to move away. Jerking back, she recoiled as her breast pressed up against Raku's forearm and then shifted when the other did the same against his torso.

Blushing she refused to look at him even when she felt his amusement deep within his chest. Shudders, not of fear or cold, for the water had remained a steady temperature, ran across her skin as his laugh vibrated into her body.

Raku abruptly released her and she darted to the other end of the bath, staring at him with wide eyes. Then she glared at him, he looked away for a moment before focusing on her with a determined glint in his eyes. Alanna was the first to look away but her head snapped back at his soft whisper, "Come here".

Alanna blinked and then blanched when he repeated himself, gesturing for her to come closer. She swallowed and met his eyes, refusing to look away.

Something was different and as he gazed at her Alanna felt jolts of electricity rushing through her body. She blushed and slowly let her eyes roam over his visible body before returning her gaze back to his.

Her body moved forward though the water, ignoring her mind ordering otherwise, until she was right in front of Raku. Her face matching her hair she allowed him to raise one hand and slowly stroke a stray strand behind her ear. Cupping her face he leaned in slowly to press his face against her neck, inhaling her scent. Then he slowly kissed his way up her neck and along her jaw, leaving her skin burning where he touched.

Pulling back slightly, his emerald eyes met hers and she shuddered again, before leaning into his palm. Raku's eyes glowed and then he leaned forward and pressed his lips onto hers. Alanna's arms latched around his neck, one hand grabbing a fistful of brown hair and Raku pulled her closer as she deepened the kiss.

**;)**


	22. Heart Broken

_Heart Broken_

**Sometimes we must get hurt in order to grow; we must fail in order to know. Sometimes our vision only clears after our eyes are washed away with tears.**

Taking a deep breath he slipped from behind the pillar and grabbed the girl, placing a hand over her mouth so she wouldn't scream and smothered her with a cloth. The girl slumped as the drug took effect and he quickly dragged her into a room, his Sight telling him he didn't have long.

Quickly he splashed water of the girls face, urging her to awaken before someone noticed her absence. The girl's eyes flickered and then slowly opened before widening in fear.

"Fear not, little one," George was quick to reassure her, "No harm will come to you."

Emerald eyes gazed back at him and he sensed her about to shout.

"I am a friend of Alanna's," he said swiftly, and watched as her eyes widened in surprise and a silent _Oh_ escaped her lips.

He sat back away from her and let her get her bearings before speaking, "That _is_ her pendant, is it not?

Brown curls bounced as Anya nodded and compressed her lips, her eyes welling.

George sighed and closed his eyes, pain flashing across his face, "Is she dead?" he asked quietly.

Anya shook her head fiercely before a small frown crossed her face.

"No?, George felt his hope rekindling.

His Sight warned him moments before the door opened and he remained frozen as the light from the hall revealed a feminine figure, "Anya?"

Anya looked from George to the Lady and back again, "Don't call for help, "she quickly instructed. "Your majesty, "she added as an afterthought.

George Cooper, King of Thieves blanched and quickly turned on the charm, "Your Majesty, "he bowed with a flourish.

Queen Lianne looked from him to Anya and raised an eyebrow before closing the door behind her and moving over to stand next to Anya. George respectfully backed away slightly, and his eyes darted to the window.

"I'm afraid I do not know your name, "Queen Lianne spoke softly and George looked her over, subtly. After Lord Thom's impromptu healing the Queen had rapidly improved, his Gift burning away her illness and repairing her broken blood cells. She was still thin, but her skeleton no longer looked as though it was trying to poke through her skin, her hair and thickened and lengthened and the bags under her eyes had dimed into a slight shadow.

Aware his appraisal had not gone unnoticed by the Queen he bowed, "George Cooper at your service, Your Majesty."

Queen Lianne appeared unconvinced but turned to Anya, "Please give me a good reason why I should not scream for guards".

George frowned and was at the window by the time Anya spoke, "Because he says he is friends with Alanna."

George winced as Queen Lianne halted him, "Leave and I will scream for help."

Sighing he turned around slowly to face Jonathan's mother and folded his arms. The Queen nodded, pleased, "Now, freeman Cooper, I would very much to know how you know Alanna and how you know her as a her."

George's eyes narrowed at the Queen's tone before he schooled his features into a neutral expression.

"I have known Alanna for-", the Queen interrupted him. "Please start at the beginning, I want to know."

This time George straightened, and ignoring the fact he was facing arguably the most powerful woman in the realm, he glared, "Why should I tell you!" he demanded. "I do not know your intentions, or you!"

Anya gasped at his tone and words, and the fact he was addressing the Queen of Tortall.

Queen Lianne straightened and matched his glare, "Alanna saved my son's life many times, and she was a hero of the realm. As for my intentions, Jonathan has become reclusive and self destructive since her banishment and I fear for him. If he loved her- "at this George growled and shifted restlessly, "-and I suspect he did, then he believes he sent her to her death. I want any information of her whereabouts so that she can be returned safely."

"She is _not_ a stray animal to be returned and kept at your will," George's voice was dangerously low, "and if that is your intention then you will get nothing from me."

Queen Lianne glowered at the hazel-eyed man standing by the window and appraised him before blinking, she understood now.

"Anya," she never looked away from the thief, "could you please go and get some refreshments? I find myself parched."

Anya glanced from the Queen to George and back again and quickly rushed for the door, and for guards, incorrectly thinking the Queen wanted help.

As the door shut behind the serving girl George made for the window, but halted when the Queen made no move to yell for help.

"You loved her, "it was a statement, not a question and George closed his eyes as memories awakened and pain etched itself across his face.

Queen Lianne nodded and smiled sadly, she didn't need an answer, it was written on his face.

Suddenly his head snapped up, his Sight was warning him of the approaching danger.

Queen Lianne, correctly recognising his expression as one of a cat about to be caught with its paw in the milk, spoke, "I just want her kept safe. She never has to come back if she doesn't want it. Is she alive?"

George glanced from the Queen to the window and to the door, where boots could be heard pounding down the hall. He quickly opened the window and was about to slip down when a hand grabbed his wrist, glancing up into Lianne's desperate eyes he halted.

"Is she alive?" the Queen repeated.

George nodded sharply, "Talk to Sir Myles. Tell him you talked with George," and then he was gone as guards burst through the door rushing to the Queen.

Queen Lianne turned and drew her composure, eyeing the drawn weapons regally. Seeing no intruder the leader of the Watch turned to the Queen and bowed, "Your Majesty, we were told you were in trouble."

Queen Lianne saw Anya inching in behind the guards and smiled at her before turning back to the Captain, "No, Captain. I was merely working on a series of coded phrases in the event I thought myself in danger. Anya and I worked on them and I was hoping she would recall them if I asked one in a sentence to myself."

The Queen nodded to the Captain as she continued, "She performed well. Thank you for your time, Captain." The guards bowed Her Majesty out of the room.

Several days later Queen Lianne sent a messenger to ask Sir Myles and Duke Gareth to meet her in her personal chambers. Sir Myles arrived first, bringing Gary and Raoul with him, explaining that they were Jonathans closest friends and could help.

Lianne let it slide, assuming that they knew George and if they didn't they could still help her. Duke Gareth arrived and seemed surprised to find his son, one of his son's friends and Sir Myles waiting with his sister.

He took the offered chair and spoke immediately bringing up Jonathan's recent expedition to a storeroom with a case of wine.

Lianne frowned and halted him, "Jonathan isn't what I asked you here to discuss."

The Lord of Naxen leaned back in surprise and Gary, Raoul and Myles all had similar looks.

"I spoke with George earlier in the week".

Raoul choked and Gary pounded his back enthusiastically until he recovered. Myles started to smile and Duke Gareth looked confused.

"You spoke with _George?_ Gary's voice rose in a squeak and Myles smiled even wider.

Gary's father looked between them all in confusion before asking, "And _who_ is George?"

Raoul and Gary shared a look before looking to Myles for instruction.

"George is a mutual friend of ours," Myles spoke mildly and grinned as a servant entered the room after knocking.

"Why have I never heard of him?" Duke Gareth asked intrigued.

"That'll be because my line of business isn't exactly on _your_ side of the law," the servant spoke and locked the door behind him, removing a wig and straightening.

"George," Gary and Raoul chorused getting to their feet with smiles and moving to clap the man on the back.

Myles rose and the men shook hands and George bowed to Queen Lianne, "Your Majesty. I believe we have met."

Lord Gareth got to his feet, eyeing the stranger warily, "By not "on our side of the law" you mean?"

George hesitated and glanced to Myles.

"Duke Gareth, Your Majesty. I would like you to ask you to swear that the contents of this conversation and the knowledge learned will never leave this room, "Sir Myles requested, looking first at Queen Lianne and then Duke Gareth.

Queen Lianne immediately nodded and swore, Duke Gareth looked less convinced but eventually agreed knowing he wouldn't learn anything if he didnt.

"I'm the King of Thieves here in Corus," George said, getting straight to the point and removing a dirty slip of paper from within his clothing.

Duke Gareth blinked and shock and turned a furious gaze on his son who shrugged and looked innocent. Queen Lianne gasped and sat back, appraising the thief even further.

Myles looked interested when he saw the piece of paper and Raoul's coal eyes immediately snagged on it, "Any news?" he asked hopefully.

George looked uncomfortable and re-read the paper before him, "Yes and no. After learning that Anya came from Merath, I sent word to some acquaintances of mine and asked around."

"Acquaintances?' Duke Gareth interrupted.

George frowned, "My acquaintances are trustworthy and accurate, the war with Tusaine over the Drell River Valley taught you that," he nodded to Myles who briefed the Queen and Duke.

"Alanna asked George for information on the enemies whereabouts, seeing as His Majesties spies weren't turning up anything. George is responsible for the warning we had about the attempt when we did."

"Please continue, George," Queen Lianne asked, "Did you find her?"

George shook his head and drew his fingers through his hair, "No. She threw herself off a cliff after apparently murdering the Royal family. After that there is nothing."

Gary frowned, "She didn't though, right?" Raoul cuffed him around the head, "Of course she didn't. She only kills when she has to, and never children let alone newborns." Everyone had heard of how an assassin with extreme magic had slain the Royal family of Merath and had then thrown themselves over a cliff. "Does she even have that kind of magic?' Raoul asked.

George shook his head, "I don't know. She was always afraid of it, who knows how much she has?"

Queen Lianne was silent, staring at the wall without seeing. Her hope was lost, surely a fall from a cliff would kill her.

Myles looked ashamed, "She didn't do it, "he said softly.

George was watching him, "What do you know!" he asked sharply, getting to his feet.

Wincing Myles reached into his shirt, "She wrote me a letter that came with Anya." He sighed and shook his head, "I know I should have told you but she is right and I wanted to respect her wishes." Myles withdrew a scroll and handed it to Duke Gareth, "You aren't mentioned specifically so you could read it out."

Duke Gareth looked at the letter and recognition gleamed in his eyes, "This is the letter the Captain of the Crimson Dawn brought you." Myles nodded and helped himself to some wine.

Duke Gareth slowly opened the letter and then, clearing his throat, began to read.

_Sir Myles, _

_I hope this letter finds you in good health. Otherwise I really don't know what I would do. _

_I understand you have questions and to be honest I don't even know if I can answer them. I also hope you can help me, and I will tell you all I can of what has happened to me in eighteen months. Eighteen months, it seems like such a short time and so much as happened._

_I have already told you of how I came to be a squire so I will continue from there. I rode for Tusaine, I don't really know or understand why, I didn't have a direction or a purpose. I just rode. I crossed the border fairly easily( the Tusaine scouts aren't that efficient, or at least the ones I evaded aren't) and was beginning to ride north to Galla. It was foolish of me, I know. But I was so blind to my own safety, so filled with rage and sorrow I was nonchalant. Several days into my journey north a band of slavers caught me. I would like to say I fought valiantly, with honour and chivalry, but I did not. I fought as though possessed, with only one thought, to kill. Eventually I was dragged from Moonlight and captured. Miraculously I was uninjured, and we snuck from Tusaine and into Merath. Slavery is widely accepted there; almost everyone with money has a slave. I was bought by a Lord and served in his house for seven months when we went to the palace to celebrate the birth of the heir._

At this George was clenching his fists and Raoul and Gary were shifting in their seats, Queen Lianne looked upset and the Duke was struggling to hide his fear.

_The royals were assassinated and I found out that a slave I knew was meant to assassinate them, I don't understand what happened but they weren't killed by him. I escaped during the chaos but the guards thought I was the assassin. I ran for a cliff and jumped into the sea, I would have been tortured had they caught me. I awoke to find myself aboard the Red Sun, now the Crimson Dawn._

_The captain and I made a mutual agreement and I was safe, feed, I had a bed to sleep in and their mage was teaching me to replace him. I came to enjoy their company and I liked the sailors, they do deserve their reputation but they aren't really that bad._

_They tell me Tahakén (I'm sure you have heard of it) is a desolate place, a place of soulless beings. I hope not, I hope it will be okay. I'm scared Myles, I don't know what do to..._

_Enough of this, I am only depressing myself. I asked Blair, the Captain of the Crimson Dawn, to find Anya, the slave girl I was with in Merath. He will bring her to Tortall where I know you will take care of her. _

_I hope you do not share this letter with anyone, including George, Gary and Raul. I don't want them looking for me, and please do not. I don't want anything happening to you on my account._

_I wish you well, Myles._

_Love Alanna_

_P.S. I have a really big favour to ask. Would you please see to it that Faithful is cared for? And if possible hunt Moonlight down and see that she is well cared for. I don't mind if you sell my belongings, where I am going now I won't have any need of them._

Duke Gareth was pale as he finished, George was likewise, but he looked crushed. He had heard of Tahakén and knew of the business that happened there and to those associated with them.

He looked like he was in pain as he stumbled to his feet and over to the window, opening it he leaned out and gave a silent scream and fell against the window.

Queen Lianne, Gary and Raoul didn't understand and looked puzzled, but all understood that for George to act as he had, that it wasn't good news.

Duke Gareth took a deep breath, "Add her to your prayers, "he muttered, "For even if she is to survive, it won't be good."

"She's dead?" Queen Lianne asked, unsure of what the Duke meant, "and what is Tahakén?"

Myles answered the easiest question first, "Tahakén is a dynasty ruled at any one time by "The Master", a Master of any and everything; Especially Magic and Dark Arts. Tahakén is a word in the First Language, written at the birthing of time. The nearest translation I can give is "Punishment".

Gary and Raoul blanched and gripped their chairs with white fists, Duke Gareth hung his head, and George, George was howling into the night in a soundless cry.

"The Master has many slaves, normal slaves like those you would find in the Copper Isles, " Myles continued slowly, " and other people he wants to punish. Those slaves are treated like dirt, the normal slaves have preference over them, they at least get fed and several rules protect them from others. I don't know where it is, or how to find it or anything really about the place, that is all I know."

Here Myles hesitated and George turned from the window, "Tell them the rest," he rasped.

Myles looked like he was in pain as he added, "The purpose is to torture, to take to the brink of death and beyond, in as most pain as possible, for centuries upon centuries. Until there is nothing left."

There were several moments silence, "So she is dead?

George answered the Queen, "The fate of the Slaves of Slaves, as they are sometimes called, is a fate not even the most vile and repulsive beings deserve. The Queen of Chaos would be more merciful."

George halted and looked back out the window adding softly, so softly the others strained to hear, "I hope she is dead. If she is not, we should pray that she will be, and soon."

The woman faced the mirror, determined not to look at herself until the last moment. Reflected in the mirrors face, beyond the woman, was a richly adorned room. Long drapes of a shinny fabric were tucked neatly next to windows, the glass was coloured and revealed the picture of a red fox against a purple background and clutching a branch between its paws.

Drawing her gaze from the window she returned to look at the room; several chests were open and empty and there were measuring tapes, scissors, needles and balls of thread all in their appointed places around the room. A large bed had been slept in the night before and a ladies night clothes were strewn across the sheets. The theme of the room was white, just like the Lady's dress.

The Lady's dress was a work of art in its own right; it was pure white, to match the band of pearls around her neck. The train was long, longer than most, stretching several lengths of the woman and interwoven into it was silver embroidery and small glittering diamonds and more pearls.

The dress kissed the floor, and when the Lady moved, gem studded heals peaked from beneath the fabric.

A veil, looking like snowflakes bound together by air, settled behind her fringe, held by a tiara of diamonds and sapphires. It flowed down her upper back, disguising the clip holding the pearls and when she walked the isle, she would toss it over her face.

The dress itself was sleeveless, revealing the woman's golden skin and the bodice branched into two over her shoulders before connecting halfway down her back where the rest of her dress continued. Her back was as golden as the rest of her, and a length of silk was wound around her waist before tying at the back and the two ends of the sash curved at her ankles before rising where they were connected to her wrist by what appeared to be air. When she held her arms open, as she did now, they formed a cape of sorts, giving an illusion she had wings.

Diamonds winked at her earlobes and her flaming red hair was designed in a similar style to her sash. Her fringe was tied back in a messy style beneath the tiara and the rest of her hair cascaded in soft curls down her back. Her eyelashes were long and dark and her eyelids had a soft shading of charcoal.

Sighing, the woman straightened her back and pulled the veil over her face, it was time. She glanced in the mirror a final time before turning, the dress spinning softly and reaching for the door.

"M'Lady, no!" a woman cried as she saw the dress strain and quickly hastened to the Ladies side, opening the door herself.

"You must not open your arms until the ceremony begins," she reminded her charge and quickly made sure the secret of the dress was still intact. The Lady sighed and obeyed, following the slaves as they led her to a door, and making sure her train wasn't going to catch. Beyond the door voices could be heard stilling into silence and a musical instrument began to sing.

Fortifying herself the Lady accepted the bouquet of roses from the woman and held it with both hands before her, the dust within the folds of her dress slowing beginning to fall around her.

The door opened and a rustling could be heard as guests all turned to view the bride, gasps of awe were heard as they took in her dress and an invisible hand stirred the air about her as she walked forward, in slow, measured steps towards the alter, seeming to glide.

Particles of golden dust fell from her dress and shimmered around her, keeping close to her as she moved, bound by an unseen chain. She glowed in divine light as she moved down the red carpet, female guests swooning at the beautiful make of the dress and how stunning she looked. Her dress was made from air and snow and golden particles were hovering in the air about her.

Reaching her groom, the bride turned and faced him, here she looked short but her grace in stillness over compensated her lack of height. The ceremony continued into the afternoon and as the sun began to set it cast a golden glow directly through the window and onto the bride.

The groom smiled at his wife as he pulled back the veil, here he blanched when he saw burning amethyst eyes, but he over-came his surprise quickly and pulled her in for a kiss. The minister completed the ritual and took the brides hand, the groom taking the other.

The crowd murmured their appreciation as the bride glowed like a Goddess, with wings, at the altar. Raising his other hand, the groom beamed and the audience followed, cheering and clapping. There were smiles all around, all but one.

The brides smile didn't reach her eyes, not that anyone could tell.

Alanna, formally of Trebond, now of Saigon, mentally swore revenge of the foulest kind on her newlywed, and allowed a tear to leak from her eyes. This was the fate she had been trying to avoid her entire life and the knowledge left a foul taste in her mouth.

She was, once again, owned by another. And for a moment, she briefly thought of home, of Tortall and wondered if this is what Destiny held for her had she become a Knight. Another tear fell, and she wept for the life she lost for the final time. Home was no longer Tortall; home was now Tahakén, and friends? Friends were no-existent and family betrayed you.

With her final tear Alanna vowed never to love again, never to truly trust someone else and above all, never left herself get hurt because of caring. Smiling away her tears she renounced her old self, the weak self, the caring self. She was Alanna, no titles or name to her name, just Alanna, a Slave of Slaves and she had been broken.

It hadn't been her torture or the mind games, the memory altering or even the Heart of Endurance. No, her heart was what had broken her, and unlike a muscle or bone, or even flesh and skin, the heart didn't repair so broken she would remain.

**Authors Note:**

Well, after the last chapter I was rather disappointed. Only one review? I nearly cried and have spent the last while contemplating on the continuation of this fic. After much debate I came to the conclusion that while I write for myself, there is no point in sharing Torn if no one is going to read it.

**Fang: ** No to the first and yes to the second, but that wasn't the point I was looking for The time range is about 693 years I think I decided... Still not 100% on the point. Either 693, 963 or 369. Well... at least you reviewed xox

So, what did we think of Heart Broken? You like? = Yes? = Review!

Lol, I'm being melodramatic, as long as one person is reading, Ill keep writing :D

_Peace!_


	23. Evolution Of A Slave Of Slaves

Evolution of A Slave of Slaves

_I know of a sonata, thundered in the seas,_

_Echoed through dreams, to put at ease_

_I know of a song, rarely sung,_

_For those who are worthy, their war has begun,_

_I know of a sound, only few can hear,_

_When our world is dark, and full of despair,_

_I know of a symphony, carried by the air,_

_Whispered to only the heir,_

_I know of a soul, guarded by a beast,_

_To bring an end to it all,_

_To bring Tahakén to Peace._

_Azandura, Tahakén Prince, Year of Creation_

Alanna glared at Raku as he clasped her chains to the bed and tightened them until they were pinching her skin. She was lying on her cell-bed while flames lapped at a bowl of bubbling silver liquid, which cast a sweet smell, which sat next to her head. Next to the liquid were a series of knives, ranging in size and shape and another smaller bowl. A series of closed pouches sat next to that.

Raku was moving about the room, muttering to himself and emerald fire sparked at his fingertips. Alanna sneezed; he was using very powerful magic.

She stifled a gasp as her bed was raised further off the floor and she was turned over. Feeling panic rise within her she fought to turn her head, so she knew when to brace for the torture.

There was a hiss and then she bit back a scream as some sort of acid dripped onto her neck. Then she did scream as a small knife pierced deep into directly below her skull. Through the pain she wondered exactly how Raku had done it, as the cell-bed was several inches thick of strong steel and she could _feel_ his hand brushing her hair away. Raku spoke an incantation and Alanna screamed again and then again and then again each time as first the liquid from the bowl seeped into her skin, then a drop of Raku's own blood and then a mixture from the pouches.

Tears were leaking from her eyes and her breath was coming in pants.

Raku moved down to her wrists and repeated the process for each, the magical aura in the tiny room growing with every word he spoke. Then to her ankles he continued the ritual, Alanna beyond speaking, she was only capable of crying and screaming between each breath. He did something else to her skin, though the pain was easily drowned by her wrists, ankles and neck.

Her stomach clenched as she was turned back over to face the ceiling, and there appeared to be a lull in the ritual, or he had finished. Alanna mentally crossed her fingers and hoped he had finished.

Looking him over she noticed his skin was pale and he was drenched in sweat, quite a feat considering he was usually so calm and composed and always well presented.

Taking a deep breath he appeared to fortify himself and then began to speak again.

Alanna screamed and her voice cracked and broke at its pitch and her breath was gone. She was unable to breath, the pain flooding her body to much to bear and any air inhaled was immediately met with an exhale consisting of nothing, for she had no breath to scream.

Next to her Raku roared a final word and then he too collapsed, moaning in pain.

Sudden images rose in her mind from somewhere as the wound at the back of her head began to burn and cast a wave of heat foot ward, the wounds at her wrists matching it.

"_No! She screamed as she burst through the door in time to watch Michael complete the ritual on Tamsin. Michael screamed and fainted, the pain of the binding bringing him to his knees. Tamsin screamed and she rushed over desperate to save her, to halt the ritual but already knowing it was too late. _

_She kicked her twin out of the way as she bolted to the cell-bed and began to frantically tear at the manacles, forgetting she had magic. Remembering she stood back and pointed at the chains, they burned white hot and melted away. Swooping forward she pulled her younger sister into her arms and ran, out the door and away from Michael._

_She heard The Master roar at her, ordering her to stop. Ignoring the order, and the inner voice screaming at her to stop, she raced for the ramparts. Guards came running for her but she ignored them, using her Gift to its full extent as they charged her, some with swords drawn and others calling to their magic._

_Casting them aside like the insects they were she took to the skies, avoiding the fireballs and spells cast after her. The portal from Tahakén began to close and she used her Gift to speed herself and Tamsin. Diving into it she mentally pictured the place she wanted to teleport once she was free from the Magical Powers around Tahakén._

_Bursting through the portal as it closed behind her and into open ocean, she clutched Tamsin closer and then disappeared. _

_Bursting into the place she had envisioned she lowered Tamsin onto the grass and checked her vitals with her Gift. It flowed over her sister until she was cloaked with it and then began to heal her. Tamsin remained unseeing as she worked and she began to panic._

_Sitting back on her heels she buried her head in her hands._

_Suddenly an arm shot out to clutch at her, "Tamsin!" she cried._

"_Raku, don't let them take me," she begged. Alanna shook her head, "I won't, I promise." Tamsin's eyes focused on hers and she smiled through the pain she was visibly in. _

"_Don't let him do it, brother"._

_Alanna took her hand and held it close to her, feeling her heart peel into two. "I won't, I swear. I will kill you first."_

_Tamsin's eyes closed at the promise and she squeezed Alanna's hand, "Thank you."_

_Power crackled in the air and Michael appeared, leading a group of warriors behind him._

"_Raku," he snarled and Alanna's hackles rose, "Give our sister to me!"_

_Alanna shook her head and then, grasping the sword she made from the water around her, plunged the blade into her sister's chest. Tamsin's eyes opened in pain and her lips parted in a soundless scream, her eyes flicked to Alanna and she read the thanks and forgiveness in her eyes. _

"_No! Michael roared as he charged forward, his hand raised. A wall hit Alanna and she was flung backwards, and into the portal opening behind her. As she fell into The Master's chambers she saw Tamsin's body dissolve and then disperse like petals on the wind. The Master stood before her, furious and as he pointed at her she knew it was worth it. She had freed her sister from becoming a Tahakén Slave of Slaves._

Alanna's eyes opened, the pain had faded to a dull ache, a dull ache for her which would be agony for anyone without her "training", allowing her to think.

Her entire body screamed as she took a deep breath and she restricted herself to short sharp pants until her body adjusted. Slowly, forcing her body upright, she pulled her legs towards her and then froze. Peering closely at her legs she frowned, and then looked even closer at her feet.

Leaping from the bed she stumbled from her room and headed for a mirror, ignoring her state of undress and her smarting body.

Gasping she looked over her body, starting from her feet, legs, torso and neck. Where she had bones there were scars, it was as though her skeleton had come out of her body and settled onto her skin. Around her ankles, wrists and her neck where the runes similar to those she had seen on Raku's neck, scarred into her skin.

They weren't fresh wounds, they were wounds that had healed over after years, not only a few hours. Wait, how long had she been unconscious?

Spinning she came face to face with Raku, her familiar fury and hatred stirred before her memory told her different and she felt confused.

He gazed at her for a while before beckoning with one arm before turning. Alanna followed him, ordering her body to stay upright and after Raku. He led her through various halls and doors she had never seen before, before halting in front of one and gesturing for her to enter. She moved past him and in the doorway she spoke softly, "That was a brave thing you did for her."

Raku frowned and gripped her arm, tightly but without hurting her.

"For Tamsin," she elaborated, sensing his curiosity. Raku's reaction was surprising, he released her and pain, not physical, flashed across his face. She took advantage of his distraction to dart out of reach, but paused when he made no move to follow her. Eying him warily she shifted from foot to foot, ready to flee.

"Do you think so?" he asked softly, suddenly looking lost and small.

Again she felt confusion and hid it swiftly as she nodded slowly, still prepared to flee.

Raku sighed and then flashed a small, shy smile, so unlike him that she gaped and stared. He brushed past her and into the room and torches flickered into awareness.

The room was small and light, covered in a pale marble and etched with gold. On one wall was a painting of the ocean meeting the sand and beneath it was a small desk of wood. On the tabletop were candles and several bottles of liquid varying in different shades.

Next to another wall was a long curved bench with a soft cushion folding into the contours and another wall had a cabinet full of liquor and juice. Raku walked over to this, walking easily over the image of a sun cast into the floor.

"What would you like?" He asked, scouring the beverages available.

"A juice, thank you," Alanna answered cautiously as she inched into the room.

Raku poured her a juice and then sent it towards her with his Gift. Alanna snatched it out of the air and nodded her thanks before bringing it to her lips, watching him warily.

"No harm will come to you here," Raku looked at her calmly, "while you are here you will not be hurt in any way, nor will any conversation or action be punished when you leave." Sensing Alanna's disbelief he added, "I swear."

Alanna straightened, but knew that Raku wasn't a liar and gratefully downed the juice. Raku frowned at her, "Savour it!"

Alanna glared at him and poked her tongue out at him. He sighed and the glass floated out of her hand to appear in one of his paws. Juice drifted off the shelf and tilted, tipping more into the glass. Then the glass re-appeared in Alanna's hand. She raised an eyebrow and he shrugged, "Savour it," he insisted.

Inhaling deeply Alanna closed her eyes and bought the rim to her lips, slowly she tilted it and allowed the liquid to moisten her tongue and she moaned as the taste hit her, truly hit her. She relished the sweet taste before swallowing and took great delight in the feeling of it moving down her body.

A smile crossed her face and she opened her eyes, feeling her body relaxing as the juice worked its magic. Suddenly she frowned and glared at Raku, "You tricked me! She snapped.

Raku smiled wryly and teleported next to her to catch her as she fell forward. "Neither I, nor anyone else will hurt you while you are here," he said as he scooped her into his arms. At a snap from his fingers the tiles moved and opened to reveal a bath in the middle of the room. Steaming water flowed from an opening in one side of the bath and another jet fell from another.

A small ball from one of the baskets rose and fell into the water with a plop and Raku moved forward, his clothes snaking from his body. Retaining his pants, he walked down the steps into the water, Alanna trying vainly to regain control of her movements. Shivers crossed Alanna's skin as the water swamped her and Raku as he moved and sat down, Alanna still cradled in his arms. He relaxed into the warmth and after a while so did she, then she would stiffen as she realised who was sharing the bath with her.

"Water, I have found, often eases the pain."

Alanna opened her eyes in puzzlement and found herself facing a muscular, but scared, chest. Realising she had fallen asleep, and in Raku's arms, she blushed and tried to move away. Jerking back, she recoiled as her breast pressed up against Raku's forearm and then shifted when the other did the same against his torso.

Blushing she refused to look at him even when she felt his amusement deep within his chest. Shudders, not of fear or cold, for the water had remained a steady temperature, ran across her skin as his laugh vibrated into her body.

Raku abruptly released her and she darted to the other end of the bath, staring at him with wide eyes. Then she glared at him, he looked away for a moment before focusing on her with a determined glint in his eyes. Alanna was the first to look away but her head snapped back as his soft whisper, "Come here".

Alanna blinked and then blanched when he repeated himself, gesturing for her to come closer. She swallowed and met his eyes, refusing to look away.

Something was different and as he gazed at her Alanna felt jolts of electricity rushing through her body. She blushed and slowly let her eyes roam over his visible body before returning her gaze back to his.

Her body moved forward though the water, ignoring her mind ordering otherwise, until she was right in front of Raku. Her face matching her hair she allowed him to raise one hand and slowly stroke a stray strand behind her ear. Cupping her face he leaned in slowly to press his face against her neck, inhaling her scent. Then he slowly kissed his way up her neck and along her jaw, leaving her skin burning where he touched.

Pulling back slightly, his emerald eyes met hers and she shuddered again, before leaning into his palm. Raku's eyes glowed and then he leaned forward and pressed his lips onto hers. Alanna's arms latched around his neck, one hand grabbing a fistful of brown hair and Raku pulled her closer as she deepened the kiss.

Alanna's eyes flashed open and she quickly took stock of her surroundings. She was lying in Raku's arms and had fallen asleep in the bath. Realising he had said something she made a noise and he repeated himself.

"Water, I have found, often eases the pain."

Alanna blushed furiously, remembering his words from in her dream and then determinedly thought of something else. Her grunt in reply could have been an agreement or disagreement, but as she took stock of her body she found herself agreeing with him.

Then a thought crossed her mind, "What did you do to me? What have you done?"

Raku stood and Alanna dropped deeper into the bath unceremoniously, yelping before her head disappeared beneath the water. When she surfaced, Raku was holding two pieces of black fabric out to her. Glowering, she walked up the steps and out of the bath, water cascading from her body.

She took the offered clothing and then looked at it confused. The bath water began to drain from the bath and the droplets on her skin lifted before floating from her body and to the bathwater as it drained. Raku offered his hand and after staring at it for a moment she cautiously reached out to touch it. As she did she felt a tingling in the back of her mind before it faded as Raku withdrew his hand.

A silent _oh_ of surprise left her lips as she realised she knew how to wear the offered undergarments. Sighing she slipped the bottoms on and then growled in frustration at the mess of fabric that was called a Bra.

Raku watched in amusement before offering to dress her himself, "Allow me?"

Alanna halted and turned a furious glare on him, no one had dressed her since she was a child and she wasn't to restart the habit now! Raku raised his hands in a gesture of peace and his clothes reared from the tiles to wind across his skin, leaving him fully clothed.

Following her minds instructions Alanna eventually mastered the Bra and then turned to follow Raku out of the room and down some more corridors. Then he led her further into the restricted parts of the castle. Slaves, seeing both her and Raku bowed low, offering the gesture of respect to the two of them and Alanna stiffened.

A door off the side of an elaborately decorated corridor opened to reveal a room as crimson as her hair. She waited until they were inside and the door closed behind them before turning on Raku, "You're making me a Slave of Slaves!"

Raku looked at her in puzzlement, "You already are," he rumbled. And Alanna reeled in shock, her mouth gaping.

"I just had to complete the ritual, but The Master wished you to be married first," Raku explained and sat down easily on the bed. "I do not know why, but He wished it and it was done."

Alanna sighed; she knew why it was done. It had been the final step to her Breaking, mentally of course. The Master had known that what she had fled her entire life from was a marriage to a Nobel, to become a Lady of the home, to be restricted to womanly duties and actions, to be tame and submissive.

At her sigh Raku's eyes narrowed and she knew he was reading her mind, it didn't even bother her as much as it should of, and she was nothing. It no longer mattered.

After mastering the womanly arts to perfection, she had been taught the art of espionage and persuasion until she reached a level where she could talk her way out of a murder everyone knew she had done. Once the Master's deemed her fit for duty she was married and spent over half a century performing the role she had been moulded for. She was the perfect wife, seen not heard, always presentable, a delightful host and, to the best of the Barons knowledge, a good mother. He did not know that any child she "bore" was one of her fellow slaves given a child's body and that those children would grow up to wed into other families and restart the cycle until all the powerful families would be controlled by the Tahakén slaves.

Once she reached an age, deemed old by society, she retreated into her castle, maintaining the illusion of her age until she was called home. Her new friends had had children, and grown old while she remained untouched by time, the illusion covering her telling otherwise. Eventually they all passed into the Peaceful Realm's and Alanna, under her guise as the Baroness, had to attend every funeral.

When she had returned to Tahakén she had been broken, in every sense of the word. And remained nonchalant to any and all form of abuse she suffered from anyone. One particularly notable experience was when she had been blinded by scorching oil and someone new had come to torture her. The person had entered and had stood staring at her for what seemed like hours before Raku came and ordered the person to torture her. Obeying, the slave had begun to torture her and Raku left satisfied.

It didn't take her long to begin screaming and when she did the stranger became livid and the blows became harder and faster until she was certain that the stranger meant for her to die. Raku had to intervene several times to spare her life, in this instance the stranger would growl at him and repeat a sentence, then Alanna would be tossed into the Heart of Endurance exercises without remorse. Over time, centuries of it, she became accustomed to the torture and almost began to welcome it. Then the stranger vanished, and when Alanna had days of respite she would wander the halls in search of him to know his face so that when she grew stronger she could kill him. She never found him.

Eventually she regained her spark, her inner fire and though she had been broken and melted down ready to be moulded into another form, her fire rekindled and grew. It was this fire that led her to remain scornful whenever confronted, it was this fire that led to her insult and bait her captors, especially Raku, even though she knew she would be punished.

The pain was always replaced and so she grew accustomed to it until she reached a stage where she could take even the most severe of torture without a sound, with some excruciating exceptions, though occasionally she would groan in pain and hiss before regaining control of herself.

Returning to the present Alanna sighed and flopped down on the bed next to Raku, ignoring his proximity. "So, what now?" she sneered, "What marvellous "training" do you have in mind for me?"

Raku stirred and looked at her, "The Heart of Endurance exercises and every other art taught by our Teachers."

Alanna blinked and straightened immediately, "No torture?"

Raku shook his head, "You have been trained to take pain, the longest I have ever seen; now you will only be tortured as a punishment."

Alanna felt a stirring of pride; she had been the hardest to break!

"I will teach you the fighting arts and magical," Raku continued, "along with mental and physical control techniques. The Heart of Endurance exercises will develop your body until you are perfect. Should you prove worthy, you will rise in the ranks until your final test."

Alanna's eyes narrowed at the challenge, "What test?"

"The one that allows you the privilege to carry the title "Tahakén Princess"", was the answer she received before Raku got to his feet. "You have been assessed by the Head of the Heart of Endurance and exercises and challenges have been prepared for you. Also, during your recovery days you will be assigned a Master of Craft until you pass all they have to teach."

Alanna watched in wonder as Raku left, she was going to learn everything!

The magical runes burned into Alanna's skin flared and she screamed. As familiar as she was with pain, she had never had this done to her and it was excruciating, similar to being held on a rack though the difference was that two Death Walkers were stretching her, not ropes.

Death Walker's guarded The Master's chambers and their purpose in his service was vast, though mainly they looked frightening and ignited fear in all who faced them. The purpose of these two was to stretch Alanna, having been beyond the age of enticing further growth from her limbs, The Master had decided she needed to be stretched to be an acceptable height.

Alanna was certain she would be pleased with her added inches, once it was over, as her height had always been her weakness and she truly wished to be taller, but not like this. The Death Walkers held her wrists and ankles and raised her parallel to the ground before drawing their arms closer to their bodies. Black magic twisted around their torso's and alternated with normal human chest form and shadows. Black fur rippled over their arms and the fragments of skin that materialised between the magic.

Alanna maintained her screams into the night and the nights after as her body was lengthened, centimetre at a time. After a day and a half a slave came in baring food and some liquid in a pitcher followed by more slaves carrying slabs of meat. Never halting their arms constriction, the Death Walker's allowed the slaves to offer them the meat and ate easily while Alanna was forced to drink the liquid.

At first she was grateful for the respite to her parched throat and it soothed her on its way down. Then it began to burn and her stomach muscles protested. She began to thrash, as much as she could held as taunt as she was, and moved her head around. A slave came and held her head while the rest of the liquid was forced down her body. Eventually her body accepted the liquid and the lengthening continued.

After a few days Raku came by and lounged easily in a chair next to her, carrying a book. It was bound in leather and was well worn. Raku held it fondly and opened it by moving his hand above the cover and the book came to life with a beam of light before fading.

"This is called _Palace of the Mind,"_ Raku explained as he gazed at the first page, "It will teach you how to build a fortress in your mind and store immense amounts of information and even build your own Lavaruax Aroa, or –."

Alanna's eyes flashed open and she looked at him excitedly, "Dream State," she finished. Raku looked at her puzzled and she smiled, "I spent some time on the Crimson Dawn, remember?"

"Ah yes, the Demigod," Raku did remember, he had even spent some time on the vessel himself.

Alanna raised an eyebrow and Raku looked at her amused, "I have lived a very long time and am at the height of my power, to not be able to correctly identify a Demigod would be a source of shame. I am a Tahakén Prince."

Alanna mentally shrugged, he always finished sentences' describing impossible feats with "I am a Tahakén Prince" as though it explained everything. Though, after consideration, Alanna realised that it was probably true. Tahakén Princes' could do _anything_.

"Yes, I can do anything."

Alanna glared at him and he shrugged, "You were thinking about me. When you do, even if I am not reading your mind, I will hear your thoughts."

Alanna paled, wondering if he had heard her thoughts about her dream- wait no, she mustn't think about it! Raku's lips twitched and he quickly schooled his features into a neutral expression.

"Now, the first skill I will teach you is fortification of the mind and thoughts, meaning you will learn how to defend your mind from invasion," Raku explained and Alanna blinked, she would learn how to keep him from her mind!

"Then you will learn how to enter other people's minds, without notice, and read their thoughts, memories and intentions. After that you will be taught how to control that person, then several at a time," Raku paused to gain a breath and Alanna interrupted him.

"How does the information storage work?" She asked curiously, doubtful as to how much information she could retain at any one moment.

Raku's eyes narrowed, he hadn't finished and he told her so before answering her question, "The process involves memorising something and then storing it in a portion of your mind where it can be retrieved at any moment."

Raku leaned down and lightly pressed his hands to her temples and she closed her eyes.

Opening them she found herself aboard a small rowboat as it navigated calm waters towards an island. Jagged rocks surrounded the base and Alanna saw, as the boat took her around the entire island, the entire landmass. There was a light wind that caught the boat and pushed it port-side towards a small beach. Guided by an unseen hand the boat smoothly moved between the rocks and glided softly onto the sand. It was white sand and the grains were soft and it was smooth, without footprints', driftwood, shells and seaweed.

The beach itself was small, only a few dozen meters wide and about half as long. It ended abruptly with the wrinkled face of a cliff. No handholds could be found on the face and it stretched around the beach in a quarter moon shape, leaving Alanna stranded on the beach.

Following some unseen direction she walked in a diagonal towards the cliff, noting that should an attacker navigate the rocks they would be faced with a cloud of arrows, for archers could easily defend the only entrance to the island.

Reaching the cliff face she hesitated and, to her surprise, the cliff began to rumble and a staircase of stairs led from the sand up to the cliff-top in a zig-zag pattern. Steeling herself, Alanna began to climb and at each point, where she doubled back on herself, was a wall of stone, with space behind it for several warriors. At the top of the wall a groove had been carved out and Alanna glanced at it as she passed, wondering at its purpose.

Reaching the top she was met with sharpened spikes facing her in rows. Coming to the first spike she halted and looked through them, trying to find a path. The earth began to shift and the spikes retracted over some area's to reveal deep pits with even more shafts inside, each was tipped with a black liquid, a poison.

Alanna looked about her and watched as spikes retracted into the earth to form a track past the spike, the size only slightly bigger than a Knight's charger. As she stepped forward and followed the path, the spikes slid back out as she passed and presented a gleaming point to any that could have been following her.

Between her and the castle was a long sloping plain with small brackets jutting from the grass in random patterns across the earth. The castle itself held her in awe.

The Palace of Tortall was a small village castle compared to this fortress and as Alanna moved closer she couldn't help but gaze in wonder.

A moat surrounded the castle and the drawbridge was out waiting for her. The outer walls were vertical stretching several Raoul sized people into the sky. Perfectly cut stones were pressed together so tight that a hand hold could not be grasped and they reached around the castle in a perfect circle. The walls themselves were smooth and had been filed into flatness. At the hole in the battlements magic flared in her vision and Alanna guessed there to be a spell of some sort around the gap. Ten empty towers glowered down at her and each had a strange cut along them, almost like they were broken. A small globe was atop each one.

Entering beneath the portcullis she hesitated and jumped forward as the first one slammed behind her like the closing of jaws. Moving hurriedly forward she passed beneath the second and winced as she felt it pass through the air, mere hairs widths behind her.

Approaching the inner wall she noted that there where paths that led around the belly of the castle to each wing and a great open gate was waiting at each. There were long plains for farming and several trees, barren of all leaves. Walking around a small fountain she continued forward towards the Keep. The towers of this wall were bigger and more imposing; though there were less of them than before and the globe above each one was visibly greater in size. The inner ballium held stables, barracks and what looked to be an archery range; all were empty, like the rest of the castle.

The final wall surrounded the keep, stretching up so high it became a part of the keep itself. The keep looked to have been built and then the wall mounted around the outside, here vicious looking tripods held a strange cross-bow and the entire building made her shudder.

Stairs lazily led to the entrance and bowls of fire flickered next to her. Great statues, twice the size of the normal man, stood at attention with their heads tilted to where she was to walk, and Alanna hesitated before jumping quickly through them. They were too alive, even though made of stone, for her liking.

The ballroom was long and bland, two staircases met between the floor and the tier of rooms above before branching out in a pincher form. A space was between the staircases and as Alanna began to climb the one to the right, she absently thought a statue should go there.

After climbing several flights of stairs she came to a final door and they opened to allow her onto the roof. Walking over to the wall, which was a direct match to the outer wall, she gazed out over the kingdom. In all four directions the horizon mingled with ocean and rocks bristled out of the waves surrounding the island. The castle was positioned so that even if a vessel dared the rocks, a catapult wouldn't reach far enough to pummel the walls.

If any troops were to land on the beach they would be met with archers and should they navigate the cliffs and pass the spikes an army could fend them off from the plain. Passing that, great logs drifted in the moat, _crocodiles_ some part of her mind said, and then there were the walls of the castle itself. Then climb the stairs and reach the roof where she was now, but she couldn't see a way further up.

Circling the base of the keep Alanna came across only one way up, several lengths above her reach. There was a jut in the traditionally smooth face of the stone, just enough to curl your fingers over. Further above that there was a small ledge and on from there, alternating from right to left, where other ledges, just high enough to swing yourself up and over to the next one.

Alanna glared at it, hands on hips, still furious at her small stature. Growling she threw her hands to her sides, palms parallel with the stone. Magic blasted from her palms and threw her forward and into the sky.

Screaming in surprise Alanna lost her concentration and began to fall back down to the cobblestones. Flipping herself, Alanna fell with her head first, her arms flailing, when suddenly an idea came to her. Unsure whether it would work or not Alanna called to her Gift, rejoicing in the rush it gave her. Purple fire once again gathered at her finger tips and closing her eyes, Alanna thrust her magic forward and out of her, towards the stones.

Her decent gradually slowed until gravity and her own Gift were balancing her. Maintaining her state of mind, she twisted her body until her legs were facing the ground and then applied more magic to her palms. She jerked and flew further into the sky, calming herself she reduced the amount and she slowed, but maintained her steady rise.

It gradually occurred to her that she was flying and a grin stretched across her face and she laughed for what felt like the first time in centuries.

Drifting over the slight wall she settled down on the stones and looked about her. A wooden roof covered a small pool of silver in the middle of the building and an even greater globe hovered above it. A man was sitting in the water, eyes closed, as his brown hair drifted with the waters movements.

Alanna walked over to him, confused as to what didn't look right. Finally she saw it, the water wasn't moving, it was smooth and glassy, but Raku's hair was moving as though it were flowing around, and he wasn't breathing.

She draped herself over a chair, with so much grace that her etiquette Master would be proud, if not for how she sat afterward. The water stirred and Raku slowly rose to the surface and turned to face her, the liquid fell from his skin and down his body until every drop rejoined the greater mass.

"Alanna," he nodded and removed himself from the pool.

Alanna inclined her head slightly, a second move that would have her etiquette Master swooning, and tilted her head back to watch him.

The sides of the pool shifted and two sheets joined in the middle, covering the liquid. The wooden roof above them creaked and then folded in a shape similar to a Lady's umbrella, leaving them with the full radiance of the sun.

"Welcome to my mind," Raku boomed, opening his arms and Alanna nodded, she had guessed as such. Raku frowned at her, slightly hurt that this feat was merely brushed off.

"Not anyone can create something like this," he snapped and gestured around him.

Alanna shrugged, "Sorry, I'm all out of enthusiasm, torture does that to you."

Raku sighed, exasperated, "A little more interest would be greatly appreciated, you know. You might even learn something."

Alanna blinked at him, "I already know I am to learn, regardless of my will or not. You are to teach me everything you know, as are the Master's of Craft."

Raku scowled and folded his arms, "Fine. Don't show interest." He then added, "You gave me the idea's for some of this," to put her off.

Alanna jerked back and her eyes narrowed as she gazed around her, "How?"

Raku beamed at her, "I got the idea's from your mind," he informed her.

Alanna tilted her head, "I don't have a mind like this."

"Ah, but you will! Soon enough," Raku answered and lead the way to the wall. Alanna frowned and followed him, how would he know she would have things like this that he could take ideas from?

Then she halted, suddenly. He could see into the future?

Raku called over his shoulder as he pivoted to face her, his back leaning over the wall. "No, but go to the future in Tahakén, yes. Time is only limited by power, and we have infinite amounts."

Then he leaned further back and allowed himself to freefall into oblivion. Alanna rushed to the wall and then felt silly as Raku was calmly floating several metres beneath the wall.

"Aw, your concerned about me," he grinned, and Alanna mentally told herself her racing heart was for fear of his safety, "I'm touched."

Alanna glowered at him, "Touched in the head!," she snapped before jumping up onto the wall and, without a thought to the idiocy, threw herself forward. She freefell until she was about a hundred metres above the ground; Raku falling easily with her, and then she ordered her body to halt. To her surprise, though she had prepared for it, she halted immediately and then, ordered her body to slowly float to the ground.

Raku plummeted past her and just when Alanna thought he was about to die, he flipped and landed with a soft puff of earth around his boots, his knees bending to take his weight.

As Alanna landed he looked to her, "You will learn how to do this, also."

Alanna grinned, she would be unstoppable!

**Author's Note:**

Wow. I should say I'm gonna quit every chapter! Thanks guys, I feel better. I have, however, somehow found a writer's block... perhaps this is because I have been reading too much and not writing... Anyway, I have a new Harry Potter fic, so if you like HP, go take a look J

Anyway, I'm still working away ,my chapters may just be few and far between for the moment. RL, is a pain in the ass.

Thanks for reading guys, my self depression is over J

Enjoy


	24. The Lives of Death

**The Lives of Death**

"Majesty," The barkeeper called as the King of Thieves strode into the Dancing Dove. George glanced over and paused in his line to his room, heading for Solom, who cast aside his wiping cloth.

"Can I get you a drink, Majesty? He asked loudly, before leaning closer and whispering softly.

"There be a man in your rooms, Majesty," Solom drew back. "The usual, or perhaps something different?"

George raised an eyebrow, aware of several of his Court focusing on him, he nodded and smiled, "Sure thing, Solom. I'll have some ale."

George took the offered mug and nodded to some of his Rogues as he made his way up the stair case, subtly checking his hidden blades were within reach.

He softly climbed the stairs, silent footsteps as he moved his feet to where he knew the boards wouldn't creak. As he got to the top stair he slowly placed his drink on the wood, before slipping two daggers into his hands. He cautiously made his way to his room, pausing outside his door before kicking it open, and darting to the side in case a blade thrust would meet him.

There was no blade thrust, or any sign of movement, so George hesitantly stepped into the room. At a crack he threw himself across the wall and stood in the corner, his back to the wall, knives out.

A figure, draped in his chair next to the fire was spinning a blade in a gloved hand. Black silk covered the contours of their body, so George was unable to see what his body looked like. Fire danced across boots than shone like a mirror and the hilt of a blade could be seen peaking above the leather rim.

"Relax, George," the man spoke in a soft voice, "Take a seat." He gestured and the chair over by his window scraped across the floor over to the hearth.

George slowly straightened, the melodic voice ringing in his memory.

"Have a drink, seeing as you left your own on the stairway," a gloved finger flicked and two crystal glasses rose from his desk, followed by a bottle of brandy. The brandy tilted and began to pour the glasses of its own accord, George felt the hair on the back on his neck tingle, he was in the presence of a _very _powerful Mage.

But there was _something_, about his voice.

He slipped his blades back into his sheaths and slowly made his way over to him, deciding he could do nothing against a Mage this powerful.

A glass drifted over to him as he took a seat and he drank it guardedly, his Sight telling him it was without poison.

"You have been trying to look for me," he murmured softly, before raising his face, a coil of red hair appearing over his shoulder.

George's memory suddenly sharpened, "_Alanna?"_He gasped. Invisible hands slowly pulled back her hood and he stared at her.

Golden skin shifted as she rose gracefully to her feet, her brandy glass hovering in the air about her. Coal silk stitched onto the inside of the hood shimmered in the firelight and sent a distorted reflection onto her fiery red hair. A braid down the centre of her head banked at her neck and easily fell over her shoulder and vanished into her cloak. Silver flashed at her neck, and she wore a band with an amethyst stone sitting in the junction beneath her neck, between her collar bones. The necklace was matched by a pair of twinkling stones at her ears, the same deep purple as her eyes.

A silver clasp, in the shape of a claw, held her cloak across her chest and it released of its own accord as the cloak dropped, in a starless curtain to the chair. The silver pendant moved and George gaped as it took the form of a winged and scaled beast, a Dragon, before settling across her belt and stilling.

Black leather covered every inch of her body, with silver buckles and clasping the pieces together and holding Alanna's shape. She was taller than he remembered, several inches short of his own height and she was built on slender, feminine curves. A worn, but impeccable conditioned, belt held a pouch of some sort, two midnight sheaths, across her shoulder was another sheath and her legs each had one. In each sheath, a dagger, a sword, two duelling blades and small throwing knives fit each one easily; clasped once again, by small claws.

Her boots were a sturdy leather, and two hilts were seen between her ankles and boots. She flexed her hands and removed her gloves, watching him watch her as she slid the leather off, revealing more golden skin.

Dropping her gloves casually on the table she clasped her hands behind her back and watched him.

Jerking from his appraisal at her raised eyebrow he launched himself at her, noticing that she barely flinched, but did straighten, as he approached. As he hit her he realised that perhaps he should have moved slower, but all thoughts vanished as he pulled her into a hug.

Alanna embraced him for a moment, before pulling back, and though George tried to hold her, she pulled away with ease. He felt tears in his eyes as he realised she was here, but then he remembered where she was rumoured to be and he paled.

Amethyst eyes closed slowly before focusing on him as he stumbled away and collapsed in his chair.

"Your-Your," he was unable to form any sentence and Alanna also sat, relaxed but proud in his chair with an ease of authority and gazed into the fire.

His glass rose next to him, without any movement on her behalf, and he swung at it and downed the contents, gasping as it burnt his throat. Eyes watering he held the glass out, and the bottle rose and began to pour him another.

After a few glasses Alanna stirred and glanced over at him, "It's ok, George."

George shook his head and glanced at the empty bottle, thinking longingly of the others in his cupboard. Alanna got to her feet and glided over to crouch down in front of him, "No, really. It is ok," she said softly, cupping his face in both her hands.

Her scent hit him in a wave and he took a deep breath, she smelt like spring rain, and there was a hint of vanilla about her, along with something sweet.

One of her fingers stroked the scar along his left check and her eyes flashed, "Who did this?"

"Rogue trying for my Crown," he said, or he tried to. What actually came out was something a sleepy child would murmur, but Alanna understood.

"I hope he is dead," she remarked softly as she straightened and leaned in. George frowned, his hands going to his head as the room began to spin. Alanna's arms encircled him and she helped him to his feet before swinging him over her shoulder with ease. George blinked as the room tilted alarmingly and he was carried, as though a babe, to his bed.

The covers slid across his body as his clothes and boots were removed without a sound, or movement on Alanna's behalf. She sat next to him on the bed as he gazed up at her in what he later hoped wasn't adoration.

She flicked her fingers around his room, purple flaring in every corner and along the walls, window and door. "You will be safe for tonight; no one can enter here until noon unless you invite them in, so sleep well."

She hesitated and looked like she would say more before she stood and returned to her chair, downing the last of her brandy as her cloak settled over her shoulders and her gloves slid onto her fingers. Then she flicked her hand at the fire and returned back to his bed side, a globe of purple following her, a captured flame swirling inside it. It lowered until it settled on his table and he stared at it dreamily as it flickered.

"Talk to Gary and Raoul... and Myles, if they _want_ to see me, I'll be back in three days," she kissed him softly on the forehead and then his eyelids fluttered and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

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Groaning, George lurched to his feet and dashed for the chamber pot, his stomach protesting. After a good moment retching he straightened and immediately regretted it as the room spun alarmingly. Cursing himself he stumbled back to his bed and frowned, there was a vial on his table, a piece of parchment peaking beneath it. Next to that gleamed a frozen flame and he stiffened as the nights memory flooded his mind. He remembered Solom telling him a man was in his room, and then he remembered helping himself to his stores of brandy before passing out on the chair.

He rubbed his head, there were other flashes, red and purple and black, but that was all. Swearing to never drink again he reached for the vial, and took the note in his other hand.

_George, _

_I hope your sleep was well, considering how much you drank in a short space of time I would think even the God's yelling in your ear wouldn't wake you. A rogue sneaking into your rooms certainly wouldn't so I spelled your room, as I told you last night, though I doubt you remember. You were safe for the night, and until noon so I hope you wake up by then, if not..._

_The vial is a new potion of mine, an even better hangover remedy. _

_Remember, if Gary, Raoul and Myles want to see me, I'll be back in three nights, _

_Alanna_

George blinked and re-read it before a gave a yell of joy and danced around the room before groaning and clutching his head, regretting his impulsive action as his stomach protested and reached for the potion. The bottle was a work of art, expensive to his experienced eye, and had obviously cost a small fortune. Twisting the jewelled cap his senses were immediately overwhelmed and he sneezed furiously as his eyes began to water.

Taking a deep breath he brought the vial to his lips and swallowed, gasping as it burned his throat. Wincing at the taste he resumed his appraisal of the vial. It was now empty, there wasn't even a drop of liquid left and the surface of the vial had turned transparent. Tapping it with his nail he frowned, it looked like diamond. The cap was etched with gold and a large ruby adorned it, gold leaves were etched along the rim and a golden flame hugged the bottle neck.

Frowning, George tucked the bottle into his tunic, certain it couldn't be real but hesitant in case it was, and rose to his feet cautiously. The stampeding in his head had dulled into an ache that was easily bearable and he grinned, Alanna was alive!

He snatched the note and tucked it into one of his hidden pockets and made sure his blades were within reach.

Slipping from his room he exited through the window and landed softly, whistling he made his way from the Dove towards the Palace; stopping only to rinse his face in the fountain and to buy honey cakes.

A gold coin at the gate gave him entry into the Palace grounds and he whistled as he made his way towards the stables, his hands in his pockets. Where he anywhere but the Palace he wouldn't adopt such a carefree air, but his rule wasn't threatened on Royal grounds. Entering the stable he gave a secret whistle and made his way through the rows of restless horses, searching for one in particular.

Stephan, who was grooming a fine grey stallion, stabled the mount and made his way to George.

"Where's Moonlight?" He asked his man after greetings were exchanged.

Stephan eyed him cautiously before answering, "Sir Myles had her taken to Olau, the Crown sought to purchase her because of Alan's banishment, but Myles told them she had been gifted to him, so she was safe."

George absently rubbed the nose of a friendly bay, which nosed his pockets in search of treats, as he thought.

"Can you find a way to get Raoul, Gary and Myles to my mother's as soon as they can make it?"

Stephan nodded and looked George over, "You're look'n better, Majesty."

George allowed a smile to dawn across his features, before clasping the groom and leaving. Stephan watched the King of Thieves leave, wondering at the loss of mind that disabled him from using messenger birds for such a small message. Something must have happened, and he would guess it had something to do with the banished Squire.

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George examined Gary, Raoul and Myles as they sat around the table in his mother's house. Elain herself was serving tea and freshly baked bread was cooling on the windowsill.

Gary's brown eyes had lost some of their laughter in the past two years and he had withdrawn from most social events, even the presence of a new Lady had done little to boost his spirits. Giant Raoul was barely better, he rarely went to events, and only orders from his sovereign had compelled him to attend, he preferred to drown his sorrows within a wine glass and bed-mates. Sir Myles was in better control of himself, though he too would veer from social events and his free smile was less frequent.

Each of them mourned the loss of their friend, and each of them coped in different ways. But today that was going to change.

Reaching into his tunic he withdrew the vial and watched as his guests leaned in. Myles was the first to reach for it and George handed it to him. Myles observed the gold etching on the diamond and the ruby before turning it upside down. When he did he froze, Gary and Raoul also stiffened when they leaned in. George frowned, he hadn't thought to look on the bottom, and asked for the vial back. Turning it he blinked in surprise before grinning, there etched in the same gold was an inscription and a symbol.

It swirled in magic to his Sight, so strong that he wondered how he had never noticed it earlier.

The symbol was that of a great gold cat rearing forward, claws extended and mouth open in roar, along the edge of the symbol in flowing script was the words, _Alanna: The Lioness_.

George lowered the vial and withdrew the parchment, smiling at his companion's wonderstruck expressions as they morphed into joy.

"I found a stranger in my room last night," he began with a smile and leaned forward, "after a moment he revealed himself to be a she."

Myles, Gary and Raoul beamed as they understood where this was going.

"She said she would be back in three nights time, if you wanted to see her," George leaned back and took a sip of his tea while his friends processed what he told them.

"Yes, of course," Myles answered immediately for all of them. "Of course we want to see her."

George nodded but frowned when Myles' face fell.

"But isn't she in Tahaken?"

George's eyes narrowed and he straightened. Gary and Raoul made the sign against evil across their chests, Myles restrained himself.

"I don't know, I drunk a bit and we didn't talk, but she kept saying it was okay, I think," George glanced at his mother's disapproving face before looking back to the Knights.

"She will meet us in the Royal Forest, two hours into the morning in three days time. I'm not sure where, I guess we all get together and she finds us."

Myles nodded, "Okay. So we have to go into the forest for a few hours. I can manage that."

Gary glanced to Raoul before looking at the Rogue, "We will be there, we can skip the ball and sneak out."

Raoul nodded, "It will be good to see her."

George, Gary, Raoul and Myles said farewell to Elain and went about their day, as they did a figure materialised before the hearth and gazed after the Knights and King of Thieves with an unreadable expression.

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Gary glanced across the ballroom at a strangely sober Raoul and jerked his head slightly to the door, it was a few hours past midnight and in the distance a bell chimed to signal the change of guard.

Myles had already retired, as had the older generations, though the Royal family were still in attendance, along with their closest friends. Duke Roger was charming a group of young ambassadors and Prince Jonathan was dancing neatly with a foreign princess, one who looked set to become his wife.

Raoul was on edge, glancing between the clock and Gary frequently and impatiently waiting for the time to leave. As Gary caught his eyes, he grinned and left the room, unbeknownst of the set of eyes waiting him curiously. When Gary followed Raoul the same set of eyes narrowed in suspicion.

They met at the stable, after changing into suitable attire and after checking the coast was clear, entered the Royal Forest. A figure lurking in the shadows silently followed the Knights, knowing their noises would cover their own tracks and allow them a path to follow.

They emerged at the decided place, a small meadow sloping down into a bubbling stream, and found a round Knight already waiting, with some food in a basket.

The elder Knight greeted them warmly and settled comfortably beneath a large oak tree, gesturing for the young men to do the same. The stalker slunk around the undergrowth until he found a comfortable spot where he could view all, and settled down to wait, pulling his cloak tighter against the moist air.

A soft noise echoed from the forest and another man slunk over to them, carrying several bottles of liquid. The Knights greeted him enthusiastically before inviting him to join them, the figure frowned, he couldn't hear any spoken words because of the small waterfall. After consideration he realised that this was why this spot had been chosen, if anyone had been followed their conversation would not be overheard.

Cursing softly he surveyed the area. The tree line was dark and forbidding at this time of night, and a mist was rolling softly across the flattened grass towards him. Moonlight filtered through the manacles of clouds and some stars gleamed, providing enough light to see by. Above the small waterfall there was a smooth flat rock, a dark colouring on it catching his eye as the moonlight was practically lighting the area up. Continuing his scanning he looked along the stream until it vanished into the forest when something in the corner of his eye caught his attention.

A cloaked figure was standing on the rock watching the unsuspecting Knights as they gazed about them at the mist, and talked in hushed whispers.

Suddenly one of the Knights stood, he had seen the figure. The figure leapt from the rock, mist pooling around their ankles to their mid-thigh, and walked steadily towards the rising men. Goosebumps rose along his arms and the back of his neck as the stranger walked, for the mist steadily withdrew from its breech of the forest and dispersed across the grass, heading for the arrival.

The shortest man, hurried towards the figure and after a moment's hesitation hugged them tightly, the other Knights followed.

Frowning, the man in the forest moved around the edge, deciding to get closer to the gathering as they settled down and began to talk. The stranger flicked their wrist and a fire materialised around them, baring the cold.

He shifted uncomfortably as the night wore on, longing for the fires warmth and there was an occasional loud laugh and more undecipherable voices. The cold was seeping into his body when the wind changed, and blew his drenched clothes against his skin. Shivering he wished he had thought to bring something to eat or drink and prayed the Knights would hurry.

Several minutes later, when he was deciding to sneak away and have a hot bath, the group stood. And goodbyes were exchanged along with hugs, finally he thought, he would be able to get away.

The mist began to roll in, as it had over an hour and a half ago, cloaking the meadow and the fire dimed and died. Suddenly the woods went silent, not like the silence when a predator was feasting after a hunt, but like the noise had lowered. He slowly forced his frozen body to stand, goose bumps breaking out over all of his skin as the waterfall suddenly _froze_.

"It's been good to see you all, "he heard the guest say as they looked at the assembled men.

And then he stiffened as they looked straight to where he was hiding and bowed slightly, "You also, Your Grace. Though I doubt your wife will be pleased you are out so late and in the cold."

They offered an arm in beckoning and Gary, Raoul and the two other men started in surprise. Some power settled across his skin and Duke Gareth found himself emerging from the shadows and stumbling wearily over to the gathering. Gary blanched as he saw the state of his father and went to remove his cloak; he was halted by a gloved hand on his shoulder. The Duke of Naxen halted before the group and realised who they were, he nodded to The King Of Thieves and also to Sir Myles.

"Your over-heard us, father?" Gary asked concernedly, recalling when he and Raoul had been interrupted by the Duke discussing meeting a stranger in the forest.

The Duke nodded, shivering and unable to speak through the chattering of his teeth. The stranger once again halted Gary from assisting his father and moved closer to the Duke. With a graceful move they removed their own cloak and draped it across the Lord's shuddering shoulders. Almost immediately he felt warmth flood his body and his exhaustion slumber. The cloak was warm and soft, black velvet clasped with a silver broach, in the shape of a dragon.

Looking up from his appraisal of the cloak he stiffened, purple eyes gazed levelly back at him.

"Alan-na?" he mouthed, in absolute shock. The Knights and George beamed and Alanna inclined her head slightly before focusing on him and he forced himself to return her gaze even though it felt like her eyes were peering into his soul. He shivered as the moment passed and she nodded slightly.

A bottle rose from the ground and hovered at waist level before the Training Master. Thankfully he took the bottle and bought it to his lips.

"You may keep that for my return," Alanna told him as she glanced up at the moon.

"How will we know when you are coming back, and where do we meet?" George asked eagerly and ran his hands along his arms to banish the cold. Alanna thought for a moment, her brow creased in thought, then she flicked her wrist. Five globes formed around the mist gathering at their feet and rose slowly, tinged with purple. Alanna cupped each within her palms and whispered into them. Then she handed the globes to Gary, Raoul, George, Myles and one to Duke Gareth.

"Where do you want to meet?" She asked looking into each of their faces, "I would rather it be one place each time; it saves me...effort..."

The Knight's and George discussed this and after a moment decided on an unused storage room in the palace as it would be easier for George to come to them, than all of them to go to him. Duke Gareth also agreed to help George enter and exit the Palace on the condition he did not abuse that help.

George frowned at him but then took the comment on good grace.

Alanna glanced at the moon once more before nodding, "Keep those globes on you at all times, and do _not_ let anyone else touch them for an extended period of time." Purple eyes focused on each man until they nodded and agreed and then she continued, "When I am coming, the globes will heat and will make a soft chiming noise that only you can hear."

She inclined her head a final time and then pivoted and strode back into the mist, Raoul waited a moment and then ran after her. When the mist cleared they were alone in the clearing and water was cascading over the waterfall.

The men glanced at each other in shock, wondering what else Alanna could do, but each returned to their bed that morning with the general consensus that Alanna was a very accomplished Mage.

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Duke Gareth shifted uncomfortably in his seat as the Prince and his bride danced in the centre of the room. Jonathan looked happy, well, happier than he had been in a long time and the Nobles approved of the match so the King was pleased. His sister, however, was another matter entirely.

Queen Lianne watched her dancing son and daughter-in-law with a masked expression of happiness, though the Lord of Naxen knew this was not the case. While the Crown Prince looked happier than he had in months, if not years, he had become skilled at disguising his depression. Lianne knew this, she also knew that her husband, King Roald, had been putting pressure on his heir since he had lost his friend and become an alcoholic.

Next to him his wife touched his arm and he withdrew his attention from the newly-weds and met Lady Roanna's hesitant hazel eyes.

"Love, your ring is _glowing_," she told him softly. Duke Gareth blinked and glanced to his finger, he had had a craftsman set the globe into gold so that he could wear it, and have it touching his skin, at all times. He winced as he saw his wife was indeed correct, and felt the familiar tingling of warmth spreading from his fingers throughout his body.

He quickly hid his hand beneath the table and allowed a thread of his Gift to touch the globe, it stilled immediately and resumed its normal colour and temperature. His wife looked at him concerned as he glanced around him, and he noticed a slight hesitance in her gaze.

He smiled at her softly and kissed her hand as he stood, "Its only business, but I cannot tell you."

Lady Roanna's chestnut head inclined and she grasped his hand for a moment before releasing it, "I will see you tonight," she promised.

The Lord nodded and quickly excused himself, knowing he would probably be first to Alanna as Raoul and his son were fending off young Ladies.

He quickly strode down the various halls and corridors until he reached the door he was looking for. Pressing his globe to the frame, the door swung on its hinges and he stepped into the room and froze.

Alanna was standing next to the hearth and was tossing scraps of cloth into the fireplace. A small puddle of blood was forming on the floorboards and she looked up from her torso to the Duke and waved in greeting. Her hand was dripping in blood and the Duke hurried towards her before politely looking away as she removed the tattered remains of her shirt.

"Would it be too much trouble to ask you to get some cloth? I need to bind myself."

Gareth of Naxen looked back to the woman and stared, deep gorges covered her back, stretching from her right shoulder and swallowing near the opposite hip. She had been attacked by something with claws and had spun away as it ripped down her back. A tattered bit of black cloth covered her breasts and matched the cloth covering her lower body. Her leggings lay discarded and ripped on the floor. The Duke nodded and fled, deciding to get Duke Baird to help the wounded warrior.

He passed Raoul as he made his way to the room and warned him of what he was to see before hurriedly making for the chief healer.

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Queen Lianne watched with interest as a flustered looking Duke of Naxen entered the ballroom, which he had left several minutes before hand, and made his way to hover behind a man with red hair and green eyes. The chief Healer turned and her brother leaned down to speak into his ear. Duke Baird abruptly stood and excused himself from his circle and followed the other Duke from the room, using the same exit as Gareth, Raoul and Gary had already used.

Eyes narrowing in thought the Queen slipped away, ignoring the stirrings of gossip that followed both men. She had noticed several things, since her return to full health, and was aware the loss of Squire "Alan" had hit many men hard, but Gary, Raoul and Myles seemed hit hardest, along with her son. She also noticed that several months back Gary, Raoul and Myles had returned from a city trip looking extremely happy. The mystery had increased when they left a ball almost simultaneously and had been followed by a suspicious looking Lord of Naxen.

A change had come over all men immediately. Lord Gareth had walked with a spring in his step, Myles laughed often and Gary and Raoul had quit sulking and were almost overbearingly happy.

Their happiness increased at random patterns throughout the months and she was certain she was not the only one to notice, Lady Roanna had become almost distant during their teas and Lianne was hesitant to ask the reason.

Shaking away her thoughts, the Queen followed the retreating footsteps of both men and strained to hear hushed whispers. They made for the Healer's Wing and returned almost immediately with bundles of cloth and jars of healing formula. Lianne swiftly ducked down a corridor and was certain that they would have seen her if they weren't so focused.

Frowning in annoyance at her folly, here she was hiding within her own home, she discretely followed them. Duke Gareth led the way through the halls until he came to an old door off a long forgotten corridor. He pressed his fist to the door and it swung open immediately and both Duke's vanished inside. Queen Lianne began to run; she didn't want the door to close on her, thankfully it didn't and she peered into the doorway.

Gary and Raoul were standing against a wall, along with a hazel-eyed man, and were watching as the Duke's swarmed around a figure by the fire. Crimson splatters were across the floorboards and shreds of fabric littered in and near the fire.

At her gasp all occupants turned and looked like guilty children. Duke Baird nodded to her and continued with his healing; ignoring the woman's fending and proclaims she would be fine. Duke Gareth blinked at her sheepishly and then turned back to Alanna, for it was Alanna she now realised.

Crimson gashes wept across her golden skin and scars glinted silver in the light, her hair hung free but contained over her left shoulder, where there was only harsh bruising. Her arms where muscled though scattered between scratches and cuts, of various length and depth, were bruises. Along her legs were stab wounds and scratches and cerise snaked along her skin to pool on the floor. Amethyst eyes met hers briefly and she inclined her head slightly before shifting as one of the men brushed against a sensitive spot.

A panting interrupted her appraisal and a flustered Sir Myles arrived, edging in behind her. He stiffened as he saw Alanna and covered his shock by grinning, "Still the champion, Lioness?"

Alanna returned the smile, flashing perfect teeth, "Of course, though they came close to my title today."

Seeing their questioning looks she elaborated, "Decided to take me all at once, and we had a few dozen big cats in the arena with us. It was a shame to kill such magnificent beasts, but I have a reputation to uphold."

She grabbed the Healers hand as emerald gathered at his fingers, "No. It is not permitted, natural remedies only." The Duke blinked at her in horror and looked at her injuries again before raising a brow.

Alanna shrugged and took the salve from the Training Master before generously applying it to her skin. "We, who enter the arena, are not permitted to be healed by Magic, not that it would matter."

"Why wouldn't it matter? George asked as he watched her worriedly.

"It would take an _extremely_ powerful Healer to get any spells to stick, and it tickles." She flicked her hand at the cloth and it rose to settle across her legs and tightened into jodhpurs. Flexing her hands she muttered in an unfamiliar language and the air turned cold. Moisture gathered at their breath and trickled forward to form a flat surface. When there was a puddle of water she barked a word and the water slowly turned transparent and then frosted. The other occupants in the room shifted nervously at such a display of magic and waited to see what would happen.

The temperature of the room began to increase until it was normal temperature and as it did so the rectangle of frosted glass defrosted, leaving pure mirror in its place.

Alanna ignored their gasps and walked closer to it before turning her torso around, to view her back. When she saw the wounds she frowned in annoyance and murmured once more. A small bag came zooming through the open door and a large needle and some thread rose from the bag. Alanna took the needle as the thread began to unroll and began to stitch the greater of the wounds.

Duke Baird recovered and took a few steps forward, to take the needle from her hands. She nodded her thanks and closed her eyes as the Healer began to stitch her wounds.

"Have they decided a name?" Gary broke the silence after a while and Lianne blinked. She was being ignored!

"For?" Alanna seemed distant as she answered.

Raoul glanced to the Queen before continuing where Gary left, "The tournament?"

"Unofficial it is called the "The Lives of Death"".

Lianne glared, "Would someone please explain to me _what_ is going on and _why_ you are here covered in blood!"

George shifted, ready to bolt and the Knights all looked sheepish. Alanna slowly opened her eyes and focused them directly on the Queen through the mirror.

"What, exactly, do you want to know?"

Queen Lianne glared at her and snapped, "I just told you what I wanted to know!"

Alanna's eyes narrowed and Duke Gareth moved closer to the Queen, "Be specific. You wanted to know what is going on, I believe it is fairly obvious," Alanna hissed softly, "I am currently having my wounds stitched by Duke Baird and you, Sir Myles, Gary, George, Raoul and Duke Gareth are watching."

The nobles flinched at her tone, though they remained silent as Alanna glared at Her Majesty.

Lianne took a deep breath and released it slowly, refusing to flinch away from Alanna's gaze.

"Very well, how did you get those wounds," she asked her voice hard.

Alanna gazed at her for a moment before sighing and clapping her hands together suddenly and _booming_ a foreign word. The room began to shake and thunder began to boom, all eyes were on Alanna as she began to chant and then she vanished. Lianne, George, Gary, Baird, Gareth and Myles all blanched as they suddenly began to dissolve, in the distance, like thousands of wasps, the sound of a crowd could be heard.

**Author's Note:**

Hi guys, sorry it's been so long. I recently went on holiday and then I had to catch up on all my school work. But here it is, originally this and the next chapter where one long one, but when I reached 20ish pages and realised I still had a lot to write I split it down the middle.

Also * ** those are susposed to be between every break. Word does not format it into , so I have to do it manually, even then it sometimes doesn't work :( Bare with me and Ill sort it or change the page breaks :D

**Ame Kage:** Welcome. Im glad you like it :D

**Alianne:** Thank you. I hope what you just read clears your question up. If not- only she aged faster, time is different in Tahaken and so is the power they have- Alanna didn't age simply because The Master didn't want her to. She only had an illusion over her and while she lived those years, she didn't change at all.

**TheOrchid:** I'm glad someone finally sees what I do! The fic's I loved have all been abandoned and its depressing! Love is depressing...

**NigerUnda:** Yup, sorting it(or trying to)

**Fang:** xoxox. Nuff said :D

_Edit:_ so the *** and the ~~~ dont work, now we will try xxxx


	25. The Lives of Death Part II

**The Lives of Death Part II**

_xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx_

_Alanna gazed at her for a moment before sighing and clapping her hands together and booming a foreign word. The room began to shake and thunder began to boom, all eyes were on Alanna as she began to chant and then she vanished. Lianne, George, Gary, Baird, Gareth and Myles all blanched as they suddenly began to dissolve, in the distance, like thousands of wasps, the sound of a crowd could be heard._

_xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx_

Raoul, Gary, George, Myles, Lianne and both Dukes suddenly dropped and landed in a pile between two isles of chairs. They untangled themselves and Duke Gareth helped the Queen to her feet, all of the men reached for blades that didn't exist and hurriedly circled the Queen for protection. A man carrying a large box appeared at the stairs and began to walk towards them, booming in another language.

They were in a large arena, with stairs and seats stretching into the skies and ending far below them, where a large sheen of silver covered the ground, it held moving pictures on it and flickered as they watched. Beneath the screen, tiny figures, barely visible, moved slowly about like ants through rivers, marshland, forest and deserts. Several figures were gathered on small squares of emerald, though they were surrounded by others who were watching them carefully, waiting for movement.

Other squares, crimson in colour, had figures dashing for them, they were swarmed by others and a transparent picture of their death formed on the screen. The crowds screamed at the death and waved flags, banners and chanted, all in unfamiliar languages. The symbols and images on the flags varied, such as a black battle axe gleaming on a red background, an oak leaf against a lake, a castle in a blue circle, a sword and a shield on a maroon field and scroll before a cross. Other flags were similar; there were four stags against a green field and a gleaming sun. One stag was rampant, another bucking, a third was charging and a fourth was calmly surveying the area about it.

Beneath the crowds, behind the patrolling of giant warriors gleaming in gold, sat a variety of people at a rectangular table. Each group had their own flag before them, and their own screen of a smaller size. Their screen only showed one person, or was split into several portions such as the one before the stag flags. Behind each group sat rows of white robed people, each intensely focused on the miniature screen before them, these screens all had different people on them. Some screens were grey and without a watcher, while others had extra people crowded around them.

In the far corner, seen by everyone, was a giant board with the symbol of every flag next to a variety of numbers that increased and decreased as they watched, the symbol at the top was that of a giant gold cat, and the symbols at the bottom were grey and their numbers immovable. Next to the board was a giant hourglass fringed in gold and running fine granules of a crimson colour, it was nearly empty.

There was a large area below them, gleaming silver and showing moving paintings, beneath that tiny people moved through rivers, marshland and forest, with several taking refuge on areas marked green. Other figures hovered around the edge of theses squares and waited or fought themselves.

Around the arena sat groups of people and with them were symbols and flags. Some looked similar, such as there were four of so stags strutting across flags, though one was rearing, another was bucking, one was charging and one was calmly gazing around. Another section had an oak leaf, a pheasant, a castle, a sword and a scroll. The only similarity between those was that they each had the same background, it was a green field with the sun in the sky.

A giant board was in the far corner and it held the symbols of each flag and their position, those at the bottom of the list had dulled to grey. Next to that was a giant hourglass, running almost empty.

The people about them were yelling and screaming and chanting in a variety of languages that it all became too much, and they quickly ushered the Queen up the stairs, searching for Alanna. Thankfully no one noticed them, and as they passed the vender he didn't even look in their direction. Reaching the top of the stairs they heard a voice echoing around the arena and the crowd went wild, some cheering others booing, but all were screaming.

Glancing back the Tortallan's froze, an image was forming across the screen and they watched in horrific wonder as a giant blonde man swung a vicious looking axe through the air and brought it down upon his opponent, cleaving him in two. The crowds roared at this achievement and the giant glanced heavenwards with a great smile and lifted the axe in salute. "Your next, Kitten!" He roared in promise and took off into the forest, his flag flashed across the screen and on the board his symbol rose several tiers and the numbers scrambled. At his proclamation some of the crowds cheered, the ones waving the battle axe flag, but the ones nearest to the Tortall gathering booed and began to scream at the other crowds.

Next to the arena, the group of people behind a flag of a horse all rose and stalked from the stadium, the other groups jeered and spat at them as they passed.

A disturbance at the edge of his vision caused Raoul to turn in time to watch a fully armoured Knight walk straight _through_ him. He stiffened and grasped Gary's arm hard and with the other arm, tried to touch one of the screaming members of the crowd. His fingers passed straight through him as though he was air. Next to him the Knights copied his movements and slowly relaxed.

The voice began to speak again, and the crowd quietened to listen to it, as he spoke George, Gary, Raoul, Myles, the Queen and both Dukes heard a buzzing in their ears.

"- see how they think their contestant is going."

The image on the screen changed to that of a red-haired warrior fighting off three heavily armoured men, one carrying a spear, two a sword and another already dead holding a long spear with blades sticking out of the end. The image halved as the warrior wrestled with the swordsmen, their blade flashing, and increased the size of a group of very well composed men sitting in a small section of the ring.

This section was coloured black, red and gold, the colours of the symbol on each chair back, tablecloth and flag. A gold cat stalked across each flag, its tail snapping back and forth as it paced along the black background. Red coloured its paws and face and some smudges graced its coat, every so often it would crouch and pounce.

Along a large rectangular table sat men of various sizes, all eyeing the dome before them where their contestant fought. Behind them, a man in white sighed and leaned back in his chair, a grin growing on his face, as his dome went black. As he did so, the large, main dome flashed to another image. This was of two brown haired warriors holding another warrior beneath the raging waters of a river, their flag was of two wolves, one howling and the other snarling.

"And the two D'avan brothers kill the Reaper!" The voice announced to the stadium, over in the corner at the scoreboard, a picture flashed the red of blood and slipped down the poles.

Suddenly the group before them got to their feet with a yell and fist pump, before resuming their seats as the crowd next to the Knights, George and the Queen went wild.

"The Lioness has now killed two of the four Sons of Alacnke!"

The dome flashed to show the red-haired warrior block a sword stroke to her side and flick the enemy blade to the left. The other swordsman saw his chance and drove his blade towards her unprotected shoulder and she allowed the blow to land, spinning so that it caused the least amount of damage and flicked her sword back into the first swordsman's arm pit. He stiffened and convulsed and she used the momentum from the blow to her shoulder to fall backwards, dragging the living swordsman with her.

"And a third!" the announcer screamed.

As she fell she twisted in the air and left her blade buried hilt first into the earth, her opponent saw his danger but failed to avoid it and the sword point drove through his armour and into his chest. The flags of two of the stags crossed the screen and in the corner, their symbol slid down the ranks. The Lioness' numbers scrambled and continued to increase as she rolled to her feet and took her opponent's blade, the one raining crimson drops and, after seeing no competition, slid the blade into her belt. The remaining spear carrying warrior had fled and left The Lioness to rummage around the warriors belongings.

She gained another hand-and-a-half sword, and several daggers. She also took the long pole with the blades and put it in a pile along with armour and boots and when she found a small green bag she gaze a whoop of joy. Immediately she opened it, constantly glancing about her, and withdrew the small container.

She dipped her fingers into the mixture and brought it to her sword wound, grimacing as she moved that arm. The flesh stopped weeping and then stretched forward to meet each end of the gash. Eventually the entire wound was healed, though it was an angry red and there was deep purple bruising about it.

She left the container and then began to drag the bodies close to one another; she laid them side by side and closed their eyes. Stepping back she touched her two first fingers of her right hand to her lips and then clasped that fist to her heart after touching her forehead.

At a flick of her fingers, the bodies ignited and began to burn. She shouldered a pack and took the long pole in her hand and began to jog calmly away from the dead, as she did she glanced skyward and inclined her head slightly. Purple eyes pierced into the audience and some members blanched and looked away while others, those in the crowd next to them, went wild with pleasure.

Glancing at the Nobles, George began to walk down towards the group before the Lionesses flag. They looked between themselves before following him, shivering every time someone walked through them.

Each man at the Lioness' table had access to platters of food and wine was readily available, their glasses appeared to refill themselves. Their wealth was obvious, rings sparkled and gold gleamed in the light and each looked to be smothered in silk. The great screen flickered and a group of warriors fell upon another pair, though the small screen before the Lioness table remained on the red-head. Two white robed men rose from their seats as their domes turned grey, signalling the death of the warrior's they were watching.

One of the white robed men gestured to another and spoke in a hushed voice; the other nodded and then snapped his fingers. The Tortallian's all clustered behind the table, but in front of the white robed desks, and watched as a man cloaked in black satin leaned forward and slapped his palm on the table, "Alanna, " his voice was soft, like velvet, "You are running out of time, get to the fountain and get there now!"

Cursing reached their ears, coming from the screen in front of them, "You come down here and compete then, if you keep thinking you know what I don't!'

The man frowned, though his reply was lost as cannon blasted across the sky and a voice thundered around the arena. "The hour is upon us! The final heartbeat of this life begins!"

Around them, the crowds hushed and then the sounds of trumpets accompanied a tremendous roar. A giant cat burst from an opening before each flag and dashed into the dome, shrinking in size until they matched the size of the terrain before them. The cloaked man roared into the air, "Watch out! There is a giant cat for each contestant!"

The curse Alanna uttered would have made the hardiest sailor pale and they watched as she suddenly increased her pace, throwing herself up the track, weaving between the trees. The screen covering the arena flashed time and time again in the next half of an hour as the cats threw themselves upon their prey, once their own contestant was slain they would retreat and return back to the doorway the entered the arena from.

One thing that Lianne was first to notice though, was that several cats formed together and attacked contestants at the same time, it was then voiced by the narrator that each human slain, that warrior's cat would try and avenge their contestants death. At this the men before them stirred and looked worriedly to each other, and one of them began to count upon his fingers. The board went crazy, the numbers scrambled and the symbols rose and fell, and the Lioness' symbol slipped to third position.

The cloaked man growled and barked in a foreign tongue, the screen in front of them shimmered and Alanna looked straight at him, before smiling softly and speaking to him. He snarled but calmed down, "Get to the fountain, now!"

Alanna nodded, and once again started to run, she had long dropped the pack and the long pole, in favour of the shorter blades that didn't catch as often on the trees grasping fingers. The large screen began to shrink and the symbol of each warrior was shown above them and a great number were beginning to converge on one area, the area Alanna was heading.

"That's the fountain, " one of the men told another, "that whore had better get there first." At this the Tortallian's stiffened, though not as much as the cloaked man. He slowly turned to face the speaker, and the air suddenly chilled. He didn't speak, but as goose-bumps rose along their arms the man next to the speaker began to sweat and inched away from his companion who continued to insult Alanna, unaware of his impending danger.

"While that may be the case," he finally spoke, in a voice like ice, "She is _mine._ And I regret to inform you that only _I_ can call her a whore."

He returned back to the screen after a moment of making the Lord squirm and the Lord waited barely a heartbeat before he turned to flee.

Back at the dome Alanna was throwing herself up a mountain trail, leaping nimbly from rock to tree branch, clinging to the bark like a monkey. Her breath was even and deep, her strides measured and she was barely breaking into a sweat. There was a heavy panting ahead and as Alanna ran faster she came across a brown haired man, gasping as he tried to climb the track. He clutched his shoulder, red oozing from between calloused fingers and turned to face her. Alanna barely paused as she reached him, nimbly moving to the side of the track and reaching the top of the small hill in moments. The man gasped in shock and then shook himself before quickening after her.

The stands murmured as Alanna passed the easy kill and continued for the fountain, in the far corner her numbers scrambled and she dropped into fourth. The group in front of them shifted in their seats, but remained silent, watching the cloaked man from the corner of their eyes.

Another dome went black and the robed man got to his feet with a grin, tossing his brown hair out of his eyes. The Tortallan's watched and listened with interest.

"Hey Zayne," this was directed at an elderly man with blue eyes, "wanna place our bets now?"

Zayne shook his head, grey hair shining, "I have already placed my bets, did so the moment I heard The Lioness was to compete."

The young man looked shocked, "But why?" Zayne raised an eyebrow, "I mean she's got lucky and only fights when she is cornered."

Zayne sighed, "I have been watching these Games for seven Tournaments, been in them six, each time, that girl has pulled through. After the first time, when she was but a child, short and scared, I have placed my money in her hands, for she hasn't lost yet, despite the odds, and only that first loss."

"B-but she's a girl!"

Zayne snorted, "Be sure to tell her you noticed, Jeoffrey." Jeoffery still looked scandalised, and Zayne glanced around before gesturing for the younger man to come closer.

"See that man?" he subtly rolled his eyes in the tall black robed mans direction, Jeoffrey nodded. "Thats _Raku_," he whispered, his eyes wide.

"Who?"

Annoyance flashed across Zayne's aged features, "He's a Tahakén Prince!"

"I don't know what that is. Is he a Royal?"

Zayne looked traumatized, "You have never heard of Tahakén? Where have you been living! Well, yes he is a Royal."

He sighed and leaned even closer, "Tahakén is a giant castle and grounds where time stands still and where Mages battle each other to the Death! Everyone who is a Tahakén is immediately the best in anything they call their craft."

Zayne glanced over towards Raku and continued, in a softer tone, "To become a person of rank in Tahakén you must be exceptional, to be called a Prince you must be a God of Men in every skill, or near enough."

Jeoffery looked slightly apprehensive, "That's not possible!"

Zayne glared at him, "It is. And The Lioness, she is one of Raku's students which means she is being trained to become of Rank. She has been tortured beyond compare and has been trained to win, if she doesn't..well, let's say she returned with many more scars."

Raku, who had been intently watching the screen turned towards them as the crowds went wild. While they had been distracted, The Lioness had reached the fountain, slain the giants cats after her and completed the task, meaning she had won this round.

He appeared at their side, brushing through the watching Tortall delegation, and hooked his hands through his belt. "As you can see, she will win."

His voice was barely heard over the screaming and the announcer's voice, "The Lioness takes the eighth life of the Tournament! Let's see if we can get an interview!"

The dome flashed to show a bloodied Alanna, as she sat, dripping wet, next to a pool beneath a waterfall. Other contestants stumbled into the area and launched themselves into the pool, some resurfaced alive, others did not. Those that did, waited near Alanna, blood seeping from their bodies, their clothes ripped and torn and sporting bruises, broken limbs and strained muscles.

After a few minutes of rest, Alanna got to her feet and put her arm directly into the air, holding tightly to a small golden box in her other hand. She vanished with a pop, and appeared on the ground before her table. Raku spun around and made his way over to her and the crowds began to chant, "Li-on-ess! Li-on-ess! Li-on-ess."

She smiled, a genuine smile as she caught sight of the Tahakén Prince making his way towards her. The table had got to their feet and were swarming around her; other team's watched in fury as her flag appeared on the dome, signifying her winning the eighth round. There was a whistle and the clanking of armour, the Knights and the Queen turned. At the barrier armoured warriors were taking up position as the crowds began to converge on the area where Alanna's team stayed.

With a roar, the crowds swarmed through the guards and across the barrier, charging towards The Lioness. Raku glanced at them, before turning back to Alanna. She nodded and vanished, he quickly followed.

At this the earth began to shake again, thunder crashed and waves roared. The Queen stumbled as she came back to her time in Tortall and George snatched her arm to keep her from falling. Alanna was standing in the same place, watching them calmly.

"If you wish, you may watch the final?"

The Knights and George all nodded and Alanna nodded slowly, "Okay. I must go, I only have twenty-four hours to recover and I have injuries I need to heal before my time is up. Your globes will ignite in twenty-two hours, dress for cold. No openly worn weapons, and if you wish any souvenirs or food, bring any coins and they will be changed."

She strode to the door and turned, "Make sure you have hidden blades, George, just in case." She smiled and then she was gone.

George nodded the Knights, bowed to the Queen and followed her, pulling up his hood as he left.

Duke Braid ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh, "So, this is what you have been doing, Gareth." It was a statement, not a question.

"Thank you for your help," Raoul rumbled as he too left. Gary smiled to his father and Aunt and also left, calling out to Raoul as he entered the hallway.

The Queen was still staring at the doorway and at Gareth's touch to her shoulder she started. "What have we done? What has happened to that girl because of our idiocy?"

The Duke's, for all their combined power, wisdom and knowledge, could not answer her.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

**Authors Note:**

** Rayo: **Thank you!

** RoyalLady: **Thanks :D

** CoTB:** Explanation to follow, I hope its understandable.

** Fang: **Hehe, doesn't it sound so cool? HAWT! :D lol. No questions are pesky To answer your question. Yes, there would be two Alanna's but only if she went back further than when she left. EG- She lives from 2000-2050 In 2050 she returns to Tahaken and returns back to that world, only she goes back to the year 2025, so in a sense if they were to meet there would be two of them. There is only ever 1 person, unless they are cloned. (Think Harry Potter, a Time Turner.) Also, re read the chapter where she is broken ;) *Wink Wink*

Right, to clarify. Sometimes I forget that not everyone is on the same level as I, or have as ready access to mind as I. So, if you are ready, I shall explain to you the time differences that are confusing you all so much :D

Have any of you read the Sword of Truth Series by Terry Goodkind? (Or Watched the Legend of the Seeker series?- I think it has the same thing) If you have you will know that in book 2 Richard goes to the Prophet Palace and is taught there. The lands have a magical barrier( if memory serves correctly) that only allow entrance and no entry. Here Richard learns that there are spells on the Palace that slow the aging process- this means for every year he spends on the inside, those on the outside age 10-15 years.

Tahakén has a similar spell, however this spell is the opposite. For every year on the "outside" (any where but Tahakén ) there is a time of 1000 in Tahakén. The average lifespan of a Tahakén person is about a thousand years, they age slower.

**For example; **

A man OUTSIDE of Tahakén could be 20 years old, he could spend 50 years there (at Tahakén), become 70, and return home. This is about 2 weeks and 2 days in his home time. So this man will age 50 years in about 2 weeks.

A man INSIDE Tahakén can reach 500 years old-midlife, he looks about 50 or so. If he were to go to another world he would look 50, he would age as that time did. If, on his death bed, he were to return to Tahakén (50 years later) he would have missed about 50k years.

So on the inside, life is very fast. For every year on the outside, it is about 1000 on the inside.

Now, as Alanna has been in Tahakén for a great deal longer than 1000 years she should be dead or very, very old looking. But because of her magical power, her lovely friendship with The Master ( and a third reason that you do not need to know :D ) her aging process has been slowed even more. Her body has effectively been frozen in time. Think (as much as I can't believe I am saying it) Twilight. Once they become a Vampire, they do not age, they live the years but remain unchanged.

The same thing has happened to Alanna.

When she gets married, it is another world, another time-zone. This time zone can be the same or completely different to the Tortall World. It does not matter because that time is relevant only to that time and Tahakén. Alanna lived until say 86 in that world (under an illusion) and when she returned to Tahakén it could have been only a few hours or several hundred thousand years. That world does not matter. It only matters because Alanna spent a lifespan of her time in that world. This means she is as old as are her years in Tortall + her years in the world where she got married + her Tahakén years.

And that made complete sense...

So to re-cap

1 Year in the Tortallan world = about 1000 in Tahakén and vice versa.

Alanna does not age very fast, only the smallest percent per year. In over 1000years she only ages less than a day.

The time she got married has absolutely no affect on those in Tortall. To them it does not exist.

:D I hope that clears a lot up?


	26. Riddles of Faith

_**Riddles and Faith**_

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

_The Queen was still staring at the doorway and at Gareth's touch to her shoulder she started. "What have we done? What has happened to that girl because of our idiocy?"_

_The Duke's, for all their combined power, wisdom and knowledge, could not answer her._

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

A flustered looking Duke of Naxen slipped through the open door.

"Well?," Asked the Queen, directing a piecing look his way. Gareth nodded and Lianne smiled, "Good, I hate to see her in pain."

"Now that we are all here?"

"Wait, where is George?" Gary interrupted his father, checking to see who was present.

"Should it matter?" The Chief Healer queried his green eyes curious. "From what I understand the globes," he gestured to the globes in their hands, "will work regardless."

Raoul frowned, "Yes, but George is a friend."

"A friend outside the law-"

"But a friend nevertheless, "George rumbled as he slunk into the room, pulling back his hood. Duke Baird looked embarrassed and shrugged.

"I got…delayed…" he explained as he removed his monk's robes, "I have-"

He was interrupted by the gently glowing and soft chiming of the globes. They quivered and then slowly rose to the air; Duke Gareth hurriedly removed his ring, and glowed even brighter. Then they joined together to form a small golden ball. Gold shimmered around the ball as it began to flatten and grow; stretching out high and low, and reaching to the sides. Eventually the ball had flattened into a shinning rectangular door, with runes and words etched into it. It was transparent, and they were able to see into it, but not behind it. Suddenly it pulsed gold light and a head appeared in the door way, familiar blue eyes looked at them. "Karlae neih?"

"Um, what?" That was Gary.

"Ah, Common then, come on," Zayne gestured them to follow him, into the door, as he vanished. George squared his shoulders and slunk into the door, in fighting stance. Myles, who had been observing silently, followed him, Gary and his father were second followed by Lianne, Raoul and the Healer bought up the rear.

Entering the door they stood in shock. A long marble hallway, with various doorways met their eyes, gold flashed as people came and went through the doors. People of all colours, shapes and sizes walked briskly about, some carting goods, others following scrolls. Zayne stood patiently as they took in the various sights and then cleared his throat, "Come on."

He led the apprehensive Tortallians down the corridor, nodding at other people as he walked and paused when a small boy ran up to him, speaking in another language.

Zayne cocked his head and then glanced back to the Tortallians before shaking his head to the child, who nodded quickly and darted off, through the crowds. Zayne turned to them, "It would appear your host has been…delayed," Zayne ran his fingers through his hair nervously, "so a change of plans. I am to show you the Hall of Champions."

He turned them around and took them back through another large door, capable of holding three steeds abreast head to tail and two high, which opened by itself. Two guards were at attention as they walked past and watched them from beneath visors as they made their way to another door, with a large queue in front of it.

A flustered looking official was writing names on a foot long parchment and another was taking coins and as people entered the door, under the guards watch. Zayne skirted the end of the line and walked straight up to the official and tossed him a round disk, he then continued up to the door. The guards crossed weapons and denied them entry, Zayne scowled, the Tortallains clustered around the Queen, eying the gleaming weapons.

Zayne began to talk to the official in a hushed voice, gesturing between the group behind him and the word "Lioness" was heard often. Immediately the guards jumped back and bowed low, uncrossing their weapons. The crowd behind them, who had begun to complain at their line-jumping, fell silent and watched the group in awe. Zayne smirked at them before leading the group in through the doors.

"Here we are," he proclaimed loudly, gesturing grandly. The Queen gasped, the Knights and George being able to conceal their own amazement.

In the middle of the room stood a giant statue of a man, which somehow seemed to shift as they watched it. There was a great band behind him bearing the words, _Hamitch: The First Champion_, his features were strong and square and his dark eyes were hidden beneath bushy eyebrows. A scar ran down one side of his face and he rested easily on the handle of a giant battle axe. Abruptly he straightened and took the axe to his shoulder, posing proudly.

People were walking in and out of the doors, some gazing at the ceiling and crashing into each other. Small balls of coloured fire hung like candles in the room, sending rivers of flame across the silver ceiling.

_The Hall of Champions_ was written in gold, and various gems across the top of the doors, saying _History, Champions, Competitors, Weapons, Worlds and Creatures, Tasks, Deaths, Training._ The floor gleamed like polished glass and reflections of the balls of light shot around the room like rainbows.

"We will go to History, first," Zayne said after a few moments of allowing his group to adjust to the splendor.

There were guards and officials posted throughout the hall and two golden robed men bowed the group through the door. As they stepped across the threshold, the word _History_ flared across their vision and as the light cleared they saw the room. It was a long corridor, but quite wide and as full of people as the outer room.

There were various indents along the corridor and at each one there were crowds of people, obviously held back from the display.

Zayne rubbed his hands, "Right, I'll give you a guided tour. And _please_ do not touch anything."

He held his arm to the Queen, "My lady, if I may?"

Lianne smiled at him and took his arm.

"The first official games began about three centuries ago, but the origins were about seven centuries ago." Zayne directed them over to the first display and waited until an area cleared.

"How do you know this?" Myles asked, his inner scholar making an appearance.

Zayne urged the Queen through a gap, the knights quickly following. "Magic of course, and time," he added mysteriously. The indent in the corridor was the canvas of a group of scantily clad warriors with spears, all fighting each other. As they watched the image shifted and moved and the warriors actually began to kill each other, it was like looking through a window.

They moved onto the next indent, Zayne describing what was occurring. "The idea was originally to have a Tournament, similar to a Knights tournament," this image was that of two warriors in primitive armor, fighting with daggers. "But, that idea was not…affective enough…"

Gary scowled, "What do you mean?"

Zayne shook his head, "Not yet. I will explain when we get there."

Two knights eyed each other down their lances and as they watched, their horses burst forward and the lances broke on shields. One man went flying as his horse stumbled and fell.

"While the idea was affective in its own way, only a Knight could compete and only then in one or two competitions, that was not enough." Zayne explained as they moved on.

The pictures changed as they made their way down the corridor; there was archery, hand to hand combat, climbing, running, horseback skills, spear fighting and sword fighting, leaders and groups to name some.

"Eventually it was decided that the ideal warrior was someone who was fit, intelligent, agile, strong, and excellent with all weapons, a good leader, but capable of obeying orders and an agent of death."

The picture at the end of the corridor depicted a group of warriors looking over a map, before they all agreed on one direction and made their way towards it.

Zayne turned to the next picture; it was a script of paper with a sentence in another language. And then a King stood on a hill, reading out loud to a group of men below him. They were a mixed bunch, with the finery of noblemen and the rags of street children.

"Here, the King decreed that whoever figured out the clue and brought him back the prize would win his daughters hand." The next image was that of the King offering his own crown to a slender youth in street garb.

"The foundations were made, have whomsoever feel fit to compete for the prize."

The following pictures were that of puzzles and riddles, secret chambers and hidden caves, some had lone people there, others had bloodshed as competitors met and tried to kill each other and some had dangerous animals in them.

At the next image, which was much larger than the others, there was a harassed looking official moving crowds along. Zayne waited a moment before catching the official's eye and calling to him in another language.

The official scurried over and dragged the group to the front.

The image was that of teams, as they made their way through the tasks and to the prize. After that, there was a tournament, for all the team.

"They liked this," Zayne explained, " It would last a few days and the team with the best score won the prize. But… they had to share."

Moving to the next image they paused, a great castle rose from the middle of an ocean.

"Tahaken entered the games," Zayne pretended not to notice the flinches. "Tahaken introduced animals and warriors from other worlds. And then introduced other worlds themselves."

George looked curious, "So how does it work?"

"Well, Tahaken is full of magic…"Zayne began.

"No, the tournament?"

"Ah, well here," Zayne took them past a few more paintings, to the last one. Hamitch, the first champion stood atop a small hill, surrounded by bodies, bruised and bloody. As they drew nearer he threw his head back in a silent roar of victory, hefting his battered battle axe towards the heavens.

"The Tournament lasts over nine blocks of twenty four hours, with twenty-four hours between each for rest and to figure out the task. Each task, or life, has its own world or terrain and its own difficulties that accompany it. To complete each "life" you must, firstly survive through it. Then you are to find the clue and solve it in time for the next round. During each task you are awarded points, the winner of each round gets certain… privileges… they can ask for other combatants to be withdrawn, or for their favourite weapon, or for a bit more magic or whatever."

The Queen looked mortified, "And how is the winner decided?"

Zayne hesitated and shifted uncomfortably, the Tortalllians, so caught up in the tale, failed to notice how the entire hall had fell silent. "Well, the one who completes the final task first, and survives to do so. They are then awarded a prize, which we don't name until the end, be it riches, land, even a crown."

Raoul's coal eyes bore into Zayne's, "What is the prize this year?"

"If he told you, it wouldn't be a secret, now would it?"

The Knight's, George and the Queen all spun around. There, leaning gracefully against the wall, was Alanna.

Her hair was lose from its traditional tie and fell in waves down her back, and she was garbed in the softest of black silk, that clung to her curves and was of intricate design. Her sleeves were short, revealing tanned skin and the collar dipped softly at her chest, revealing a modest expanse of skin. Her leggings were of the same fabric and were strangely loose before disappearing into her boots. She was wearing small golden hoops in her ears, with even smaller jewels dangling from them. At her throat was a single silver necklace, a little dragon clutching a blue stone.

Zayne paled at being so close to the legend and bowed immediately.

" 'lanna!" George grinned after a moment of appraisal and swept her up in a bear hug before passing her along to Gary, Myles and Raoul. Seemingly amused by the proceedings she allowed it, only returning each hug for a very brief moment.

The crowds were all whispering to each other, and some were pushed towards her with parchment in their hands, others scrambled for ink and quill.

"Have you eaten?" She asked softly, staring at Zayne, an eyebrow raised. Zayne swallowed and shook his head.

"Very well," she ran her fingers through her hair, revealing a small gold ring, with diamonds and sapphires. "Come," her smile lit the room, and she walked away, the crowds letting her pass like a waterfall. The group glanced to each other briefly, before hastening after her. Duke Gareth quickened his step so that he was next to her and reached into one of his pockets, withdrawing a small square of fabric, which he shook out to reveal a midnight cloak.

She shook her head, "Keep it, I have others."

As she led them away, the guards on the doors fell into bows and moved to flank the group, keeping anyone from getting to close.

"Forgive me for me delay… I was otherwise engaged, "she explained softly as she entered a great room, noise flooding them. People were all sitting at tables, eating and drinking and around the room were a variety of booths, serving foods and drinks of different nation. In the center of the room was a large fountain, two dragons in battle, water gushing from their mouths.

Alanna paused for a moment before setting off in the direction of the fountain; a large family group was sitting eating next to it, curiously looking about them. What they appeared to have failed to notice, was that the table they were sitting at, had a giant cat on it, as did the chairs. People who recognized her fell out of her way as she approached, almost afraid to get close to her.

Halting before the table she raised an eyebrow, the head of the group, a large well-rounded man, glared at her. "Yes?" He drawled.

Zayne, who had followed them, blanched and began to gesture for them to move.

"You're in my seat," Alanna said softly and waited.

The man scoffed, "So? He asked arrogantly."I don't see your name on it."

Her amethyst eyes flashed and she pressed her hand to the table, directly over the cat, leaning forward, "Move," she hissed.

"Or else what?" He ignored the silent crowd gathering at a distance and his wife, who was tugging urgently at his robes.

Alanna straightened, flicking her fingers in the fountains direction, a spray of water flooded across the table. The man stood, his face livid with rage and seemed unable to form words.

"I am asking you _nicely_. Now move."

"Y-you bitch!" He spat finally and moved from around the table, some of the other diners began to back away, quickly. Silence fell as those closest realized who Alanna was. "Come on, "his wife was tugging harder now, her round face tinged with fear.

"No," he bellowed, "I will not have some, some _whore_ order me about."

Alanna's face flickered, and before she could move the Dragon's of the fountain sprang to life, bursting from the water. The first one leapt over the table and pounced on the family, throwing one then the other into the fountain. The second dragon rose above them, spreading its wings, making sure none could leave. Rumbling the first dragon turned on the man, who was now beginning to realize his mistake, pinning him beneath his paws.

The entire hall went silent; all eyes were on Alanna and her companions.

"Raku," Alanna drawled, "how very subtle."

The Tahaken Prince appeared atop the second dragons head and slid down its body as though it was ice. He landed softly, the thud of his boots echoing throughout the room.

"You asked nicely," he smirked as he made his way forward, his black cloak snapping, "I was merely…encouraging respect."

Approaching them his cold eyes took in the Tortall group, and Zayne, before resting on Alanna.

"I could have killed them," he shrugged.

"What if I wanted to do that?"

The Tahakenian scoffed, "You compete in two hours, you can kill then."

Alanna shook her head at him, as the entire room fell to their knees, realizing exactly who they were in the presence of. Raku smirked at Alanna's raised eyebrow, "See. That is the respect we deserve."

The Queen glanced around before curtsying in Raku's direction, the Knights and George followed.

Raku's green eyes glanced to Alanna and she shifted slightly. "You must be Queen Lianne," Raku bowed with a flourish, presenting her a bouquet of roses, "I must thank you."

The Queen took the roses, decorum requiring it, "How so?"

A genuine smile crossed his face, "Because your husband is a moron, we got her." They all glared at him and he shrugged.

Alanna glowered at him, "Enough."

Smirking he glided back to her and slung an arm around her shoulders, whispering in her ear before pulling her straight into a kiss. The crowds gasped and she punched him, directly in the face, and smirked at him as he clutched his nose. "You deserved that."

Raku growled and as he brought his hand away his nose began to heal, the blood vanishing.

Ignoring him, Alanna turned back to the man, who had been watching the proceedings with fearful eyes.

"What am I to do with you," she told him softly as she smoothly walked to stand next to him.

"Allow me to…correct… the gap in your education," she eyed him in distaste as Raku slid into a seat.

"I'll have a _Royal Banquet," _he announced loudly, "makes sure the desert is strawberry."

"I am Alanna, though you may know of me as The Lioness," the crowds who had risen, once again fell to their knees, others all gazed upon her in awe.

The man began to shake in fear; she was a _legend_ even outside of the Tournament.

Gazing at the family who crowded together beneath the dragon she flicked her fingers and the dragon slunk backwards, returning to its original position, water beginning to gush from its mouth.

"That's rude," Raku remarked mildly as he spun a blade.

Alanna snorted, "_Yes, because you _are _the patron of chivalry." _Raku looked scandalized, "_Now now, there is no need for that tone. Besides, it wasn't me who started to speak in tongue."_ Alanna shot him a dirty look, before turning back to the man.

The dragon rose from its position and jumped back into the fountain, water rearing up as the dragon disrupted the liquid. A shield formed over the table and the water dissolved into mist as it hit it.

Alanna gazed down at the shuddering man, his family forming a small group away from him, watching in fear.

"Your pathetic," she snarled at length, "get out of my sight."

The man lurched to his feet and hurriedly fled as though she would kill him if he stayed, which she may do, his family followed him.

Alanna sighed as she sat down next to Raku, gesturing for the others, who had been watching with wide eyes, to sit.

"So, any questions about the Tournament you want to ask?" She asked her former country men, who hesitate before sliding into the other side of the booth.

Raku was eyeing George with a dangerous expression and Alanna nudged him, hard. _Behave, _echoed inside his mind as ideas of how to kill the thief crossed it. Raku mentally shrugged and his mind cleared, with one image, the one of George kissing her soundly on Jonathan's birthday, flashed across his mind. Jealousy tinged the picture, the next one was of her the first time she wore a dress and possession edged the image. _Behave_, Alanna repeated before watching as food made its way toward them. Nervous waiters and waitresses were carrying large plates of steaming meats, fresh vegetables and some puddings; others carried jugs of wine, water and juice.

Raku rubbed his hands in childish glee, "What?" he asked in reply to Alanna's raised eyebrow, "A man has to eat."

He appeared so delighted at the amounts of food that even the Queen was able to crack a smile, though she was unsure of him.

The young Knights, Sir Myles and George eagerly helped themselves to the food they recognized, after receiving the go-ahead from Alanna. The Queen and both Dukes appeared cautious and only after magically checking the food, would they allow the Queen and themselves to eat. The hall was gradually returning to noise, though the tables nearest to them were silent, and awed glances were cast between them all. Zayne looked uncomfortable to be there and was hesitantly picking at the less elaborate meals.

After he had finished, t he Chief Healer leaned forward, "Tell me about the healing you have gone through, I am curious to your natural remedies as you mentioned you couldn't be healed by Magic."

Raku, who was in the middle of devouring a chicken leg, glanced up. "Well, the Gift alone cannot be used, but we," he flashed a grin at Alanna, who was calmly sipping from a goblet, "have many more means of healing. It's part of our training."

"May you give an example?"

Raku looked to Alanna who shrugged. "Well, there are many different methods, from many worlds. Which one do you want an example of?"

"Our one?" Asked Duke Gareth, who appeared to be thinking something through.

Raku thought for a moment, "For what ailment?"

Sir Myles interjected, "Blindness, or partial."

Alann's eyes focused on her former mentor, "You have difficulty seeing?

Sir Myles nodded slowly, "Only in recent years. All those years of researching and reading in bad light, I'm afraid."

"Natural or Magical remedy, I can give you both."

"You can cure blindness?" Gary asked.

"We can cure anything," Raku smirked, though he spoke with such confidence that they believed him.

Sir Myles was looking at Alanna, "What is faster and safer?"

Alanna leaned forward, "With your permission? She asked, her hand approaching his head.

Myles nodded, though he looked slightly apprehensive. Purple glowed at her fingertips and she reached out and gently touched the Knight at the temples. The History teacher shivered as a wave of purple fire cloaked him from head to toe, burning away the aches and pains of age and injury. Finally he opened his eyes and blinked to clear his focus, "That's… extraordinary!"

"I can see perfectly fine! If not better than I used to," he announced, taking a large sip of wine, "and that", he said eyeing the goblet, "is fantastic!"

Alanna shook her head at his antics, a small smile on her face. Ill send you some, she mouthed to him. Myles beamed and took another swig.

"I'm afraid I must leave," Alanna announced softly after a few minutes, getting to her feet.

"Why?" George asked, ignoring the dirty look Raku shot him.

"I must prepare for the Tournament," she answered as she nodded to them and walked away, her hair shimmering in the light.

They watched her leave and Raku swallowed his last gulp of wine, "Zayne. When it is time, take them to the arena. See that they get whatever they need and answer their questions."

He flicked his wrist and then he vanished.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

Alanna sighed as she rose from the water, rubbing her wounded skin gently; thankful for the extra two hours she had asked for to recover. Water cascaded from her skin as she made her way to the mirror, across the rose petals. The sweet scent hovered about the room as she walked lightly through them, and stood before the mirror. Her hair was plastered against her head and fell down her back in long dark crimson curls and small ribbons of red flashed across her skin from the firelight.

Sighing she lent forward and lifted her sword from the rack, the water drying on her skin and her hair falling about her face as it dried. The sheath was plain, compared to many Tahaken blades, but stunningly so. Gleaming like polished coal it cast flaming reflections onto her and there were runes etched into it, silver lining the groves. Alanna slowly drew the blade, the pommel fitting easily into her hand, it was, after all, made just for her.

Made from Midnight Steel, the sword slid easily from the sheath with a soft chime and Alanna shivered, it always felt good to have it in her hand, like an old friend. Midnight Steel was the highest class of blade or weapon there could be, it made Raven Armory look crude and cheap, to own a dagger would cost a Title, to own a blade, a crown, but to own an entire set of Midnight Steel Battle Gear, well…. It was worth Kingdoms.

The guard was as silver as the moon, as was the hilt and a great amethyst gem was set into the pommel, other small diamonds and purple gems were scattered around it. A one and a half hand sword, the blade itself was a masterpiece, it sang as it cut through the air as she tried a few passes, just for the joy of it. Her sword was as dark as night

In the distance, a bell chimed, signifying the beginning of the tournament, time for the crowds to find their seats. "_On my life do I pledge my loyalty, body and soul, to Death". _Alanna drew the blade point softly down her arms, coating both edges as she spoke. "_Providing my heart beats, I will ride out and fight in the name of Valor. Whilst I draw breath, I will obey my superiors and remain at my post until my watch ends."_ She began to take the sword through the passes, fluidly moving from one position to the other, "_I will remain chivalrous to the fallen; my enemies and bothers. I will slay no unarmed man, woman or child," _crimson petals stirred as she stepped softly around the room, her blood leaking onto the marble.

"_Not a challenge by foe or equal will be refused, Not a word of deceit shall pass my lips;_

_I will die for honor and glory," _With her other hand Alanna took her fingers across the blade a brought the blood to her forehead. " _I will live by the blade and die by the blade, be it so the will of Death."_ Here she touched her heart. Then she spun the sword about in her hand, before throwing it to the sky and spinning around, she knelt as she came full circle, her head bowed. "_This I swear on my blood and my breath."_ Her sword came shooting down and at the last moment she reached out to grasp the pommel before it struck the floor. Snakes of blood formed on both sides of the blade, slowly forming one large trembling drop.

"_I will keep my faith"_ she uttered finally as the drop touched the marble.

She stood, touching the first two fingers of her right hand to her lips and then forehead before clasping her fist over her heart.

Her gift flooded to her arms erasing the new wounds and cleaning the blood from her skin as she replaced the blade, caressing it lovingly and ensuring the magical wards were surrounding it.

Across the room the wardrobe door opened and her clothes came rushing over, slipping across her skin to form undergarments and then the clothes she was to compete in.

Her hair wound its way over her head and down her back, braiding in a large spiked chain, she glanced at her reflection before stepping into her boots.

A flick of her wrist and the bathwater drained, and the rose petals vanished. The room was as she had entered it, though the lingering scent of roses hung on the air.

Exiting the room she locked it with her Gift and set off down the corridor, officials stood next to each door and they watched as she left, some offering her brief nods and others cowering least her gaze fall on them.

She met other competitors as she walked towards the start point, some looked nervous and other were barely able to move, but still they all took the same path.

Smiling at one of the other female competitors she fell into step with her, "Ready?"

She shrugged, "I guess, I still don't know what was in the box."

Alanna nodded, "Me either. Any idea on what it's used for?"

Dirty blonde hair fell into pale eyes as she shook her head, "Not a clue. You?"

Alanna shrugged, "Neither. I just hope it's over soon."

They fell into companionable silence as they continued the walk, other competitors falling into step around them. Alanna eyed some of them with distaste, aware that even though they were being watched by officials most would not hesitate to seriously injure or kill her.

Ahead of them, in front of a door, a small golden sphere was hovering and it drifted forward, coming level with Alanna's face. She nodded in its direction, knowing her face would be covering the dome, along with her symbol, betting figures and score for the last round.

"See ya," she said to her companion as she entered the door and made her way to her flag.

The woman nodded, "Best of luck."

The arena had been changed, instead of terrain it was completely blank, endless white space and Alanna felt the customary apprehension at entering and walking across nothing. Shaking her head she walked towards her table, the Lord's who thought they had claim to her we're all waiting, gems flashing and silk sifting at their movement. Raku stood powerfully to the side, opting to forgo his traditional cloak. He looked imposing, muscles chiseled beneath an emerald silk tunic and white slacks and as she approached he moved to intercept her, his body flexing mightily.

She raised a brow and he shrugged, "_Just putting it out there that I am powerful?" _She shot him an I-don't-believe-a-word-you-said look but shrugged it off, if he wanted to show how handsome and strong he was, she wasn't going to stop him.

One of the Lords, a pompous fool, clasped her arm as she came closer and pulled her tight against his body, releasing her swiftly as Raku reached for her and handed her the box. "So, have you figured it out yet?" The Lord asked, leering at her.

She eyed him in contempt and ignored him as she took to her podium, standing in her typical relaxed stance. Her feet were at shoulders width apart and her arms were clasped behind her back as she held her posture straight, her balance would allow her to move anywhere and perform any attack from any angle.

A while later, when all contestants were in a circle, standing at their own stand, a voice boomed across the Arena.

"Welcome to the Final Life of the three hundredth and twenty second Tournament!" The crowds roared and Alanna, eyeing a small sphere before her, nodded, knowing that at that moment her face was flashing across the dome with her figures and statistics.

"After completing all eight tasks and surviving to tell the tale, I present your competitors!" The voice rambled on listing the names and some facts about them as Alanna focused on her breathing.

"…and our Defending Champion, for the eight time, The Lioness! Now, no one knows where this girl came from, only that after her first defeat she has been unstoppable and her team has high expectations for her in this Tournament."

Alanna ignored them as she controlled herself, deep and stead breaths that drew air into her body and began to store the air throughout her body. It was a controlled technique that allowed her to exercise for longer and harder, by storing the oxygen, even a little, allowed her an edge. It also helped clear her mind.

Raku, who was leaving the Arena along with the Lord's, thought to her, "_Your…friends… do not know what you are, do they?"_ Alanna mentally shook her head, "_No, how do I explain what I am? And what I have gone through?" _She thought for a moment, "_Or the things I have done and can do. It's easy, I can't. The best thing for all of us is for them to assume wrongly, than learn the truth."_

Raku nodded mentally and withdrew from their conversation as the bell rang, sounding the beginning of the Life. Before she could completely focus, he sent her an image. Alanna grinned, a genuine smile that lit her face and set her eyes ablaze, causing her competition to falter.

"To begin," boomed the voice, "a riddle!

_The thunder comes before the lightning,  
And the lightning comes before the cloud,  
The rain dries all the land it touches,  
Wrapping the earth in a blood red shroud.  
What am I? "_

The crowds murmured and inside the Dome, the thoughts of the competitors raced. Alanna chose to divide each phrase and focus on it one at a time, beginning with the first phrase. _The thunder comes before the lightning_, she frowned, that didn't make sense, light generally travelled much faster than sound. Forgoing on that part she skipped to the next, which also didn't really make sense, what caused lightning without a storm? Well, a Mage could, but there was the reference to "earth" and "land" in lines three and four, so it had to be natural.

Other contestants were looking dumfounded, as Alanna glanced up to check her progress, and none appeared to have solved the riddle. Satisfied she continued to think.

She was re-reading the third line when she had a brainwave, rain, or anything similar, had to come from a height. So she needed something high that was on the earth. She toyed with waterfall for a moment before casting it aside, it only fit several words of only a few lines. Satisfied with her answer for that line she looked to the last, thinking of words associated with a shroud, she came up with blanket and cover. So something high that caused lightning and rain and cloud. It came to her suddenly, a mountain! Or, more specifically, a volcano!

Smirking she brought the box up to her mouth and spoke into it softly, "Volcano." The gold pulsed and began to shake, bending down she placed it on the stand and watched as it quivered and gold waves spread out form it. The announcer was delighted in announcing her answering the riddle correctly and she was certain her supporters would be cheering with glee. At this several other contestants correctly answered the riddle and their own box opened and cast their riddle in the air.

A soft voice began to speak inside her mind, telling a child's tale, as words took form in letters of gold in the air above her. After hearing the tale again she blinked and shook herself, what in the world?

With a sigh, she began to read the riddle, irked that there was to be another one to solve, riddles weren't her strongest skill.

_Four of us are in your field  
But our differences keep us at yield_

_First, a one that is no fool  
Though he resembles a gardener's tool_

_Next, one difficult to split in two_  
_And a girl once had one as big as her shoe_

_Then, to the mind, one's a lovely bonder_  
_And truancy makes it grow fonder_

_Last, a stem connecting dots of three_  
_Knowing all this, what are we?_

Growling Alanna shifted on the podium, opting to cross her legs. She had, several hours ago, accepted that she would be here a while and so had sat down, choosing to save her strength. Only a few contestants were at the first riddle, their frustration obvious and quite a few had already passed into the next step, which she couldn't prepare for because she was stuck on the riddle!

Cursing herself mentally she glanced around to see who remained and caught a wiry red headed man leave the arena, jogging towards an exit. Snarling she mentally ran through her internal profile on the man.

Age: 23 years, 7 months, 8 days and 14 hours

Sex: Male

Physique: Tall, six-foot, slender build, though muscled, large bones, including face.

Features: Red-hair (natural), slightly dark. Lightly tanned skin, various freckles. Mole on left thigh, one behind ear. Birthmark on shoulder. Brown eyes, gold flecks. Wide mouth, slightly pinker than skin tone and small, precise teeth. Various scars on hands and legs.

Born: Avrain Cottage, Avrian River, City of Numan, Gatem

Skills: Swift dagger work, close range fighting, skilled in hand to hand, not built for strength very fast and agile. Intelligent and cunning, very silver tongue

Occupation: Mercenary

Competition: First tournament, class 3 (average rating)

Other: Walks with barely seen limp, weaker on left leg. Very hard head (second round of competition took a dagger to the skull, only minimal penetration and damage) Treat with caution when confronting in small spaces

Risk: Not a threat.

Flag: Black Jackal against red background

She snorted, Black Jackal, at least hers looked good. Black Jackal…Black Jack…Black Jack!

She lurched to her feet, ideas flashing through her head. Black Jack was a card game; a deck of cards had four suits. She asked to her the tale again, this time making the connection between the little girl who was given a _diamond_ the size of her shoe and the riddle.

A gardener's tool could be a_ spade_, and a stem with three dots was a _club_. Truancy could be absent, making it absence makes it grow fonder, "absence makes the_ heart_ grow fonder" was a common phrase.

Swooping down to pluck the box she whispered hurriedly into it, "The suits in a deck of cards" and it chimed and pulsed brightly before vanishing.

The announcer boomed that she had figured out the riddle as she leapt from the podium and quickly ran for the tunnel, apprehensive but confident that she could handle what was coming.

The tunnel opened into a cave and there was a podium with a small dome around it with three sections on it, one blue, white and green.

Taking the stairs two at a time she reached the dome and placed her hand on the small round ball that hovered in front of her. There was a sharp prick as something took her blood and the dome in front of her burst into life. It showed her picture, and general information about her, nothing to personal or incriminating as well as nothing that could give away her various skills. There was also her statistics as having won seven of the eight tournaments she had competed in, in a row.

There was a number on the screen and as she looked at it she frowned, knowing at least one person was watching her she refrained from swearing and quickly made her expression neutral. She mentally divided the substantial number into three or near enough too, before leaning forward and pressing the dome screen.

The first section lit up, revealing a large stretch of water, with an island rising up in the distance and in the water sharks circled and there were rocks, obscuring a beaching.

Several options were in front of her, with numbers beneath them and Alanna realized she was able to "purchase" various things to help her across the water. There was the Gift, along with various types of it, a boat, a kite, a set of dolphins and a pair of wings.

She reached out to touch the Gift section and as she did the screen broadened and there were various sizes and types of Magic she could use. While she did have an incredible amount of Magic, it had been "capped" to a generally low level to allow her competitors a chance against her, but throughout the tournament she had had the option to "purchase" some of it back, along with other magic.

Opting for a medium sized ball of Copper fire, she watched in annoyance as her numbers plummeted, her new Gift was expensive. The next section lit up, casting a green glow over her, this section was a mass of jungle before rising up to a sheer cliff.

Here she could by ropes, special boots, an unfamiliar creature with a saddle, more Gifts, though they didn't appear to be available for her, and a weird looking horn.

She choose the boots and moved on to the next section. The cliff face rose sharply into the heavens and vanished amongst the clouds; a large, winged shadow could be seen dipping in and out of them. The options for this section were a pair of gloves, ropes, Gift's, a strange looking large disk, and a large bird with a saddle. The large bird was the most expensive, followed by the disk, the rope and gloves appeared to be the cheapest, though the gloves seemed to catch her attention. She chose the gloves.

The dome flashed and then she was given a variety of weapons to choose from as well as a sizeable chunk of destructive Magic. She bypassed the Gift once more, for it had only increased in price and lessened in size. She opted for a bow and arrow, a half hand sword and several daggers, thus ending her available "purchasing" money. She turned to walk away when the screen shifted once more and a voice erupted around her, "For being within the first fifty competitors to reach this stage, you have been granted an extra ability!"

An outline of a body appeared on the dome and Alanna waited no time in touching its head. There were potions around the eyes, nose, mouth, ears and brain. "Define all," She asked and the voice spoke.

"Eyesight: enhanced thirty seven percent, Sense of smell: enhanced to that of a dog, Mouth: Sharper teeth and poisonous fangs, Hearing: Enhanced sixty percent, Brain: Intelligence, reaction, awareness, thought process all altered to an acceptable mortal animal of your choice."

Alanna thought for a moment, she would most likely be ending somewhere high, so her eyes sight would be obscured and as for swimming and going through a jungle her normal eyesight should be acceptable. Her sense of smell was pretty good, but she doubted it would be useful when smothered by clouds and waves, so only useful in the jungle. She didn't need poisonous fangs and sharp teeth and her hearing was already quite good. So, brain, but what to choose?

Her intelligence was not overly lacking, in survival situations she was passable, well she was alive, so she couldn't be that bad. Her reaction times were also very sharp, even before she went to Tahaken so that left awareness. Overall she was quite good, though like most of her abilities it had been toned down to make it fairer on the other competitors, but you could never be too aware.

"I choose awareness, the sonar location of a bat."

The screen flashed before dimming and Alanna turned and made her way down the steps, and made her way towards a second tunnel. She made her way up a slope and towards a bright light, a cool wind was rushing down the tunnel and she took a deep breath, salt tickling her nose and sand stinging her face.

Exiting the tunnel she allowed her eyes to adjust before jogging over to a table, out on the ocean she could see small boats fighting their way towards the island, and even a someone flying overtop, though they appeared to be having trouble navigating the winds.

Her chosen weapons and gear were on the table, a long bow was gleaming in the sun and the feathers of some black bird dotted the arrows. There was a long belt for her sword, which would be affective though crude in design. The outline of a pair of boots was next to the daggers and hovering above a small, circular, disk was a ball of copper fire.

The pair of gloves was placed in a "prayer" position, though the hands were cupped, and a small silver oval could be seen inside them.

Alanna sheathed her weapons, placing two daggers into her boots and two to her arm sheaths, a fifth went along with her sword at her hip. The bow was slung over her shoulder, along with the quiver and as Alanna touched the outline of her special boots, silver flared around her own. She swallowed the pill and pulled the gloves onto her hands, they constricted around her skin, fitting like another layer.

Turning back to the Copper fire Gift she thrust her palm straight into the middle, and held it there, prepared for the pain. It didn't hurt as much as she remembered, but maybe she was adapting, she probably had. It had been _centuries_ since she had last needed to bind her Gift with Wild Magic, after a while it became a natural extension of her own Magical Gift, so there had been no need for it.

The Wild Magic flooded her body and Alanna exhaled softly, it was time. She closed her eyes as she walked towards the ocean, rampant waves rearing into turbulent skies, and focused on her new ability, sonar. It was hard to understand at first, but as water rushed across her boots she smiled. The tournament was hers to win, and win she would. After all, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

**Author's Note: **

** Dusk:** Thank you and Welcome!

** Miss Goldenlake: **Welcome!When I saw the length of your review I was like OMG! Yay! So thank you for finding "Torn" to be the best Fic you have ever read! ( I can name quite a few that are excellent and I do not believe mine compares, but I thank you all the same :D ) I agree, having the most amazing fic and the author goes and leaves it almost makes me cry :p Thankyou! Ill take in mind the scene changes and the scenes without names (ill try and make it easier to tell the difference between people), hopefully adding the xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx helps with that. Ill also try and break up my description with text. I love that you have heaps to say :D Thanks for taking the time to leave such a long review. As for your questions, Ill answer a few now.

Yes, she is scared from everything she has been through, though they have been covered by more scars and then been healed, before being covered some more. What makes you think that Roger can now compete with Alanna? But yes, there will be an EPIC BATTLE SCENE (maybe more than one (: ) As for Jon, well… you will have to wait and see :D

** Royal Lady: **Thanks.

** :** Eighth Round of the 322 Tournament :D

** Fang:** I hope you understand now? Well, she does go back…eventually. In the next chapter we learn why she was dying, but it was only because of…certain circumstances… which will be brought to life later. Also, I think you missed the tip :D Have a look again :P xox

** Tiny-Mousie-Grim:** Welcome. Thankyou, Ill keep that in mind and work on it :D


	27. Nine lives of The Lioness

25 Chapter Twenty Five- Torn

_Nine lives of The Lioness_

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

_The Wild Magic flooded her body and Alanna exhaled softly, it was time. She closed her eyes as she walked towards the ocean, rampant waves rearing into turbulent skies, and focused on her new ability, sonar. _

_It was hard to understand at first, but as water rushed across her boots she smiled. The tournament was hers to win, and win she would. After all, she had nothing to lose and everything to gain._

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

"Li-on-ess, Li-on-ess, Li-on-ess, Li-on-ess!" Flooded the arena and with a flash and a crack Alanna appeared within the centre of the dome, clutching her mangled arm to her equally damaged side. The crowds were roaring, even her enemies supporters, as she slowly got to her feet, cradling the remains of her limb.

Raku appeared next to her and his Gift settled across her skin, her torn and broken flesh re-stitching and the poison throughout her body weeping out of the holes it was injected into.

She smiled up at him through a swollen eye and leaned into his victory embrace, before being swarmed by her fans, the ones brave enough to touch her.

The warrior guards flung themselves at the crowd, bashing aside those who would not move, after a time they formed a box, three men deep between Alanna, her team and the crowd.

The tunnel at the end of the dome had opened and members of the losing teams were dejectedly making their way into it and out of the Arena, some would head home, others would remain on and attend the banquet tomorrow evening.

Tonight she, and the competitors to finish after her, would rest while the crowds would keep music, dance and cheer flowing throughout the night; the guards would be hard pressed to keep order, with cheap wine and ale already being consumed at an astronomical rate.

Raku's muscular arm about her shoulders kept her from stumbling in exhaustion as they vacated the Dome, trusting he had her back as she had left her weapons in the final arena and her Magic was held, awaiting the end of the tournament, when the last competitor either died, withdrew or completed the task.

She was exhausted, the drugs, potions, spells and vials taken daily to reduce her natural prowess had taken their toll, she was not used to feeling so... weak.

The journey to her chambers was as uneventful as it could be, her guards had doubled in size as they moved through the city, fighting off well-wishers and people who wanted to see the Legend in person. The courtyard surrounding the Hall of Residence was full of beings, many were not even human, all were chanting, screaming or speaking in their own language as she got nearer, but the word was the same.

"Lioness!" Rang forth from every mouth and mind, creating a three beat roar that the heart's of those around her responded too, Alanna and Raku were the exception, they were in control of their bodies, not the other way around.

Feeling exhilarated as she always did after a fight Alanna felt power returning to her limbs, Raku might have helped, and maybe the bottle of Tahakén liquor steadily emptying in her hand.

She managed a small smile in the direction of the fans as she was swept in through the gate, her guard falling behind her, pushing back the wave of the crowd. Above them, winged beasts of legend circled, all hoping for a glimpse of her. Outside of the competition the small golden balls were disallowed, the live picture had to be taken through someone's eyes, they had to wear special eye masks and what they saw would be beamed back into the small domes of everyone who was watching her.

In the distance she heard the boom signalling another competitor had been slain, and Alanna sighed as they crossed the threshold into the palace and the magical wards came into effect. The silence was strangely disorienting, after the buzz of the crowds and Alanna took a while to adjust as their boots padded onto the smooth marble. Servants bowed low as they passed, lower than even to their ruler, Alanna was a multiple Champion, she was also incredibly dangerous and her eyes were unnerving.

Their arrival had been heralded and their room had a range of food and beverages available, there was also a servant holding a towel next to a series of wooden horizontal blinds at the end, in the corner. Raku and Alanna shared an eating and dining area; there was a large fireplace, with two comfortable looking bed chairs and a great animal fur on the rug that covered the floor. A gold etched mirror hung on the wall as they entered and Alanna took the moment to examine herself after her latest victory.

She remained in a rigid but relaxed posture, her body angled to move in any direction with any amount of force and her newly healed skin shone red through the holes in her sweat covered tunic. Rips and burn holes were dotted around the fabric, her leggings fairing only slightly worse. Both were covered in blood, dirt and grime and her weapons sheaths were non-existent. Her boots looked as though they had been taken through a campaign, which was kind of true, she certainly needed a new pair, the soles were coming away from the sides and she could see her socks through the top.

Her hair was in its normal braid down the centre of her head and down her back, it had held surprisingly well, considering what she had been through in the last nineteen and a bit hours, though it really needed a wash. Her appraisal was somewhat hampered by her left eye, which had turned a dark purple and had almost swollen her eye shut, her right was as fierce and as confident as normal.

Satisfied with her appearance she glanced to the servant, who looked as though he wished he were anywhere else, "You have a bath for me?" The man nodded, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he looked at the rug.

"Good," She walked slowly towards where the servant stood, passing by Raku at the buffet table to grab an apple and a strawberry tart. "_What's the bet he looks?" _The Tahakén Prince asked, as he took a deep gulp from a goblet. Alanna tilted her head as she poured a glass of juice, _"Hm," _she thought, glancing to the servant who was starting to shake_, "Yes and you buy me dinner?_ Raku smirked, and gave a sharp nod.

Alanna grinned before tipping her head back and draining the juice, taking the tart and biting delicately into it, floating the apple in the air, delicate slices being made into the pale flesh, and the core came out, floating on the air before dispersing into water and then air.

She passed the servant and untied her hair, letting it fall in waves down her back, then she moved her hands to the buttons on her shirt. His eyes widened, before swiftly looking even harder at the carpet, as she pealed the fabric from her skin, a slight frown on her face as it caught, stuck to her body through sweat and blood.

She swept past the servant and into the bathing room, hearing Raku growl at the boy, "Look at her and I kill you," even she could hear his gulp of terror.

This section of the room had a great round bowl set above the ground, reachable through wooden steps. There was a basket for her dirty clothes and fresh ones sat upon a wooden table, the same wood as the steps and the wooden blinds. On a second table, right next to the bath, a variety of shampoos, oils and soaps cast a sweet aroma into the room and tendrils of steam rose from the bath.

Alanna walked slowly towards the bath, her clothing de-threading and falling from her body, before being magically tossed into the basket. The serving boy paled and shuffled into the corner, his eyes firmly closed.

Completely naked Alanna strode up the steps and tested the water with her toes, satisfied she slid into the water with a hiss, the water was hot, but she liked it that way. The water was slightly scented and she inhaled deeply before sliding under the surface, a smile on her face as the heat began to sooth her weary body.

After a time she left the bath, her body clean and her hair washed. As she walked down the steps, the boy literally threw her towel at her, his eyes averted. Smirking she wiped herself down, and snapped her fingers as she made her way to her clothes, water fell from her hair and dispersed into the air.

With her mind, she cast a silent and non-visible mirror before her, watching as the boy hesitantly peeked at her, she let the spell fade as she pulled her clothes on, choosing to use her hands rather than magic. If she made each move more seductive than normal, well, who would know.

Satisfied with her black tunic and leggings she tossed her hair over her shoulder and exited the bath, raising a brow at her companion as he glanced up from his sprawl on her bed.

He shrugged, but his cold emerald eyes snapped to the serving boy and watched him with a predatory glare. Alanna sat gracefully at the table as Raku got to his feet, "You looked," he said calmly, almost as though discussing the weather. The boy gulped and hurriedly shook his head, his eyes darting about, before looking at the floor.

Raku seemed almost kind as he answered, "Yes, you did. I was in your mind the entire time," the young boys eyes widened before he paled even further.

Getting to his feet Raku wasn't much taller than the boy, though his presence made him tower above the man.

"That's fine that you looked," Raku said softly, and Alanna raised a brow from where she sat at the table. The boys hazel eyes snapped up before he quickly looked at the carpet as Raku continued, "It's only natural to want her."

Alanna exhaled slightly louder than normal, the only sign of her amusement.

"She is beautiful," Raku tempted as he moved to stand next to the man, " do you want her?"

The man hesitated before nodding sharply and a feral smile lit Raku's face, almost blinding in its light.

"How old are you, Boy?" He asked mildly.

"T-ten and nine moon c-cycles, Sir," he gulped.

Raku's smile pulled even wider, "Have you ever been with a woman?"

The boy nodded sharply, growing more confident, foolishly, "Yes, Sir. Several, Sir," he smiled confidently.

"Ah, a Player then! Raku smirked before throwing a glance at Alanna, she shook her head slightly.

Raku's smile vanished, "I _hate _players," he snarled and the temperature of the room dropped, the boy having lost his confidence, beginning to realise his mistake.

"You see a girl, you want her, you take her and then you leave her," his voice was cold as he slid even closer to the boy, who was quivering in fear, "You don't care about her at all, all you want is to make another notch in your belt," he added in disgust.

"Tamsin?" Alanna asked softly from her seat.

Raku's head snapped to her so fast she could hear the air pop where his head had been, "Yes," he answered eventually.

Returning his attention back to the boy his lips curled in a cruel smile, "What should I do with you?"

Alanna sighed, "Take him elsewhere," and she rose to her feet, making her way over to her bed, "I don't want to be kept awake by his screams."

Raku looked momentarily offended before smiling brightly, he flicked his hand at the boy and he rose, hovering several inches from the ground and followed him as he walked out, "Sweet dreams," Raku called sweetly to Alanna.

She shot him the universal symbol using her middle finger and he laughed as he left, the door closing and locking behind them.

Alanna lay silently in darkness, the glow from the fire casting slight sparks of flame across the room, as she began to prepare the wards around her. After a few moments an invisible barrier of pure magic covered her bed in a circle, even sinking below the carpet, just in case, in-casing her in a dome.

Linking her hands behind her head, she thought of what she would ask for at the Banquet tomorrow night, and a smile crossed her face as she drifted into her dreams.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

Queen Lianne smiled behind her fan as Roald made the announcement, "... and so I declare the banishment invalid and extend a hand for Alan of Trebond to return home."

The Knight friends of the young "man" erupted into cheers and even Jonathan managed a smile as he sat next to his wife, though for her part she looked slightly putout, having heard strange tales of the lad from the maids and other court Ladies. She was beautiful, with long black hair and sparkling green eyes, though her beauty was tarnished by the expression on her face as a server got close to her, and her disdain was clear.

Internally Lianne frowned, but resigned herself, if she made her son happy, then so be it.

Allowing her mind to drift as her husband ordered couriers to every Court in the region, even as far as Carthak, all in an attempt to lead Alan home.

Later when her son came to her room to celebrate the good news she smiled at him encouragingly and responded as she should, though she, unlike he, knew that Alanna, formerly of Trebond and Tortall, was now Alanna: The Lioness, Tahakén Princess and she wouldn't be returning any time soon, if at all.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

Alanna sighed as she appraised herself in the mirror, before her eyes rose to Raku exiting the bathroom, a towel wrapped low on his hips and Alanna's eyes were drawn across his body. His muscles rippled as he drew his fingers through his hair and he smirked over at her, well aware she was checking him out.

"Looking good," he drawled as he moved to his bed where his clothes were laid out.

"I know," Alanna answered returning her attention to her own reflection. Raku frowned behind her, "I meant me," he pouted.

"I know," she replied as she slid several rings onto her fingers.

He snorted with laughter and a small box flew across the room, to hover in front of her.

"What's this?"

Raku gestured for her to open it. She did so, peeling back the lid to reveal a small gold pendant, the shape of a large bird, which hung on a delicate chain. A small ruby gleamed at the bird eye and Alanna smiled in awe.

"Its beautiful, thank you."

Raku nodded and came up behind her, his presence setting a tingling feeling throughout her body, "Allow me?"

She handed him the necklace and he gently locked it about her neck, his fingers lingering for a few seconds.

"Happy Eighth victory, Champ," he smiled as he stepped back and returned to his bed, pulling on his shoes.

Alanna glanced at him before returning her gaze to the mirror, the jewellery casting a delicate contrast with her tanned skin.

Her dress was long and graceful, leading from white to a light lilac at her shoulders, before gradually darkening to a coal black at her feet, where she wore her normal combat boots, refusing to wear heels when no one would see her feet. The dress was light and flowing, though hugged her body in all the right places, it had a less-than-modest neckline, though not overly so, and plunged at the back, revealing toned skin, though littered with faded scars.

Amethyst twinkled at her ears and matched the slight purple shading abover her eyes, and her lips were a soft natural red. Her hair had been pulled back and now hung down one shoulder, exposing the other. The necklace finished her look, and she turned to Raku. Very rarely did he dress up, preferring comfortable combat clothes, though when he did he cleaned up well, _very_ well.

His brown hair was neatly brushed and he had taken the time to shave, a fact Alanna was _very_ happy about, she had no interest in kissing a man who had facial hair... she shook her head, ridding herself of those thoughts. The three-piece suit he wore was tailored black, though his tie was the same purple as the middle of her dress.

She had to smile, though, when she saw his shoes, he was wearing his boots, same as her, then she frowned, she didn't like it, not at all.

"What about your shoes?"

Raku glanced over near the fireplace, in the wood stack there was a pair of tailor-made leather shoes, "Just waiting to be burnt."

Alanna turned her glare on him, hands on hips, "Why aren't you wearing them? She asked sharply.

"Because," Raku drawled, his green eyes sparking, "I like my combat boots. Besides, I don't see you wearing your heels."

As he spoke he nodded towards a pair of white shoes, which remained in their box, untouched since she first opened them. Alanna blushed, before rallying, "So? No one will see them, my dress is too long."

Raku frowned at her, "I'll wear mine if you wear yours," he announced, and at Alanna's contemplating look he added, "Besides, you can throw yours at people and hurt them, mine are flat and wont."

It seemed Alanna hadn't thought of using her heels as a weapon and a misty smile crossed her face as she thought about it, "Deal!"

Raku grinned.

The celebration was in full swing when Alanna and Raku arrived, fashionably late as some would call it. Already competitors and their sponsors and teams were drinking, dancing and eating. Some had pretty serving boys and girls on their laps; others were mingling with the crowds. The room hushed as Alanna and Raku made their way down the staircase, her team had already entered, just moments ahead of her, the guest of honour.

There were gasps as the guests took in her appearance, she was beautiful, a Goddess as she floated down the staircase, her hand upon Raku's forearm. Raku was handsome and he knew it, as he stood tall next to the most beautiful girl in the room, the latest Champion.

Someone started to clap, others quickly followed until the room thundered in applause, though some, mainly her competitors, didn't clap.

Eventually the cheers subsided and Alanna mingled with the opponents she liked, Raku pulling away in search of some food.

The night wore on, with people coming up to ask for a dance, others to congratulate her, others wanting some advice, which she freely gave. Her enjoyable evening fell when she felt a presence behind her, drunken, possessive thoughts directed at her body.

With a sigh she turned to face the Lord, "Lord Orion," she nodded, "What can I do for you?"

The Lord's drunken mind went into overdrive, images flashing through it; of her allowing him to pull her clothes off, her pleasing him and finally one of her as she squirmed beneath him. She heard a soft growl at the other end of the room, and glanced over the Lord's shoulder at Raku, flashing him a warning look. "I was wondering if you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens and return to my room for a celebratory drink."

Further images crossed his mind and Alanna forced herself to block them, "I am afraid not, My Lord. I am slightly sore still, from the Tournament, and fear that a stroll will set my injures off. And I do doubt your intentions."

She nodded to him and was about to take her leave when he grabbed her arm, faster and stronger than she would have thought for a drunk. "Now listen, here," he growled, his alcohol-stained breath on her face while she stared passively back at him, "you are going to leave with me and we are going to go to my room."

"I think not," she replied simply, jerking her arm from his grip. By now they had the attention of the guests closest to them and were drawing the attention of many more. Some guests were tittering at the Lord as Alanna turned and began to walk away.

His face turned an ugly shade of red and a vein on his forehead began to pulse and he roared like an enraged bull as he charged at her. She sighed before nimbly dancing to the side, flipping him forward and he landed with a crash. The rest of the room had fallen silent and were watching in interest as the drama unfolded. Lord Orion flayed about for a moment on his back before turning and getting onto his knees, using his hands to push him higher.

Alanna's heeled foot shot out and he tumbled backwards with a yell, she followed him and placed her heel at his throat, he followed her leg up her body until he meet her gaze.

She applied some pressure and watched him squirm, slightly pleased as he suffered. "Don't. Touch. Me."

Raku appeared in front of her and offered her his hand, "Would you care to dance?"

A brow rose and he nodded encouragingly, smiling brightly at her. With a sigh she took his offered hand, after pressing harder on the Lord's throat, and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor. Raku flicked his wrist at the band and the instruments began to play, the players blanching before picking up where the music left off.

The Tahakén Prince pulled her closer, intimately closer, as they began to dance slowly to the music. Around them other couples stood to the side and watched as Raku spun them gracefully around the dance floor.

"_Told you, you would enjoy heels,"_ Raku smirked into her ear, his arms about her waist, their bodies close together.

Alanna inclined her head slightly, "_Should have killed him. I wonder how far into his ear my heel would go..."_ she mused and Raku laughed. Stepping back slightly as the song changed to a faster pace, more guests had chosen to join this song, though they were still watching the two Tahakén royalties with interest.

This song required twists and spins and even a lift, where Raku shot Alanna high above his head before spinning and catching her, bridal style, he then lowered her to her feet, bringing their bodies flush against each other. With a smile Alanna flicked away, her hair forming a halo and Raku stepped up behind her, pulling her close and tilting her so her body was parallel with the floor, as the song ended.

Their breath kissed their faces as they stared into each other's eyes, Raku's emerald gazed deeply into hers before glancing to her lips and back. Had she not been a Tahakén Princess, she was sure her heart rate would increase, as it was she almost forgot how to breathe as Raku lowered his head, and then...

"And now, the moment you have all been waiting for!" An announcer's voice tore through the moment and Raku straightened, effortlessly pulling her with him, he shifted to the side, not very far, but far enough for her to notice the lack of heat from his body.

Glancing around her, she realized that no one had seen the moment and Raku's eyes were clear, almost as though she had imagined the moment, she hadn't, had she?

Shaking these thoughts she walked gracefully to the podium where the Chairman of the Tournament waited, there was a trophy there, a large pile of gold on a bench and a tall and wide box, covered by a blanket.

The crowds parted to let her through in a rustle of silk and the clink of jewellery and she could feel every eye on her as she elegantly climbed the stairs, offering her hand to the Chairman.

He shook her hand enthusiastically, having had her on this stage numerous times in the past, and new she didn't take well to having her hand kissed, especially when the kiss lingered.

He ran through all the necessary words before getting to the prize, Alanna waiting patiently for the reveal, thought she wondered what the box hid.

"So, we have the value of one thousand Gold pieces in any currency, and..." Alanna frowned internally, that was a lot less than what she normally won!

Two attractive women with olive skin walked forward to stand next to the box, each wore revealing clothes of gold and they both struck a pose at each corner offering their arms to the box.

"...A full set of Midnight Steel Mount Battle Gear!" The crowd gasped in awe

Alanna clasped her hands in delight and gave a soft squeal which was hidden beneath the thudding of something approaching, and a loud neigh signified the arrival of a horse; clad hoof to ears in Midnight Steel armour.

"Yes!" She gave a scream of joy and the crowds laughed, some giddy at seeing her so happy, her magic flaring in happiness.

The horse snorted and rolled its eyes before stomping back into the doorway, Alanna glanced at Raku before grinning and following it.

She appeared at the horse stable and leaned against a stall as she watched stable-hands swarm around the stallion, it snorted in disapproval but remained where it was. The armour gleamed in the light, the colour of polished coal and silver veins ran through the runes etched into the steel. It came off the horse, piece by piece, evidently made to be put on in a hurry but the removal was much slower. Each of the parts fitted perfectly, completely covering the horse from all dangers and the straps holding it to the horse glowed to her Gift, glowed emerald.

She felt Raku materialise behind her, so did the horse for he turned his head and focused intelligent eyes on him, whickering in greeting.

Raku smiled and spoke in song, offering his own greeting in reply and Alanna blinked as she heard its voice. _Get these amateurs away from me, Raku,_ he ordered stamping his foot in annoyance.

Raku smiled and moved forward, ordering the stable-hands away and back to their duties, though Alanna noticed their eyes lingered on the horse as much as they did on her. He was a magnificent, steel grey and standing at over seventeen hands. Muscular and big, he was built for strength, a giant version of the chargers back in Tortall. Raku removed the remaining armour himself and set to brushing the stallion down as Alanna drifted closer, he turned his head to her,_ We meet, Hunter. I am called Storm._ Alanna inclined her head, _Hunter? Don't you mean Lioness?_

The stallion shook his mane in Raku's face and the Prince slapped him on the shoulder, _Yes, Lioness Hunter._

Alanna nodded in acceptance before something occurred to her, "Raku, that armour, was yours, wasn't it?"

Her companion nodded, "I am one of the few with a set for my horse." He affectionately patted the grey, "Most choose to arm themselves, I choose my mount. I can protect myself, he cannot."

The stallion snorted and his hoof pounded the ground, "At least not as well as I," Raku amended with a smile.

Alanna nodded, accepting the value of this, it was true. There wasn't much a horse could do against several swords or bow and arrows.

"So, where is my armour?

"In storage."

Alanna nodded again before looking over Storm's muscular frame and a thought occurred to her, "Isn't all Midnight Steel custom made?"

Raku halted his brushing and turned to her, "Yes," he answered, his eyes twinkling.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

**Author's Note:**

Who wants' a kiss/ Raku and Alanna to get together? Lol. Sorry for the length and the time of the update, I am in my final year at school, final days before my exams. Life is slightly hectic. Anyway, enjoy. Hopefully I will update soon.

The next chapter is what I promised in the last, sorry :D

** Children of the blood: **Remember your review of chapter 17? *wink*

** Fang:** My faithful friend, read above if you're interested in a spoiler. :P As for your request, I may do that shortly.

** Schubeyy:** Where did you get your name, may I ask? And welcome! Thanks, you're so cute! Jon was cool until the POTS series, then suddenly he became dumb, Still a hottie though :D But he was a dick in TWWRLM. She will eventually return * don't tell anyone :p *

Review my friends and I may write faster :P

OMG, look what I found... thats handy. Question, would you rather the line, or the xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx?


	28. Ambrean el Tekes

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ambrean el Tekes

_xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx_

"_So, where is my armour?_

"_In storage."_

_Alanna nodded again before looking over Storm's muscular frame and a thought occurred to her, "Isn't all Midnight Steel custom made?"_

_Raku halted his brushing and turned to her, "Yes," he answered, his eyes twinkling._

_xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx_

Her return to El'Midador was without the fanfare she expected, as an arriving Tahakén Princess and she smiled in satisfaction before shooting a questioning glance to Raku.

Her companion rolled his eyes as he soared through the air next to her, his form a rusty coloured Lurex Hawk, before answering her unspoken question in Mind-Speak.

_Tahakén has acquired mounts from El'Midador for millennia, they are accustomed to us_. In her own form, a coal black bird of the same species, she nodded before angling her wings and plummeting towards the ground, wind rushing about her body.

Mentally screaming in exhilaration she watched as her shadow grew from a small dot and expanded. She could see individual strands of grass and count the hairs on an ant's leg, when she finally pulled up. Snapping her wings open, she winced at the strain, before easing back into her human form with a loud crack, startling the children playing at the water's edge. With a well they fled back towards the village, screaming in their own language, saying a demon fell from the sky.

Next to her Raku glided into landing, easing back into his form, leaving him looking like he had wings before they vanished. "Smooth," she commented with a wry smile. He grinned and strode up the beach his gaze flicking curiously towards the huts where the people of El'Midador lived. Her coal cloak snapping behind her, she followed him as he headed for the meeting centre, reminiscing on when she was here many a moon ago. Several warriors came running, when they saw they approach, weapons drawn.

The two Tahakén Royalty ignored the blades and continued forward, their long stride easing the distance between the beach and the huts. As they got even closer the young warriors gave a war cry and were then flung backwards as though a giant had kicked them. Alanna raised a brow to Raku, who shrugged, "The next one can be all yours."

She nodded before gazing curiously at the gathering to the side of a coral, where a fine-boned horse was tethered to a large log, driven deep into the ground. Smelling incense on the wind, she glanced to Raku in question, only to see he looked marginally confused. As they got nearer, warriors forming lines on both sides, none brave enough to challenge them, she could see symbols along the horses grey coat, written in blood. The dark-skinned people watched as a warrior lent forward and pressed his forehead to the horses, bringing a blade forward. He was gazing into its eyes when he plunged the blade directly into its chest. The horse gave a muffled scream of shock before the light fled its intelligent eyes and it fell to the side.

Alanna and Raku halted, eyes wide, as the warrior took the blade and brought it down on his own hand, severing it. A pair of warriors moved forward and intercepted him as he stumbled towards the ground and dragged him off. His arm was thrown into a shaped pit and the horse was dragged on top of it and set alight. The man, who was clearly the chief, strode forward and began to speak in another language, one Alanna wasn't yet familiar with.

Next to her Raku inhaled sharply in surprise, and she turned to him.

"It's a sacrifice," he informed her in bewilderment, "but I don't know why. They _never_ sacrifice their horses, they are sacred."

One of the warriors who watched them shifted, "_Who are you?_"

Raku turned his clear emerald eyes on him, "Raku."

The warriors around them blanched and fell back, bowing an apology before one hastened towards the chief.

His companions pushing him forward, the warrior who had spoken bowed deeply, "_I am Sheku. I will take you to the Chief."_ He led them towards the gathered people and then answered Alanna's question.

"_You are correct. Horses are sacred to us, however they must remain untainted."_ As they walked Alanna scanned the people and noticed an unusual amount of missing limbs, some were old, several years by the look of them, and others fresh.

"_It is sacrilege for a mare to be mated without the approval and eye of her Life Partner. When our horses are killed, a part of us is taken, so we offer our limbs as thanks for their service and love." _Sheku continued in his soft voice, his black hair catching the wind.

"_I have not seen this before_, "Raku offered.

Sheku shook his head, "_Only recently have we been killing our horses_," his voice caught as though the act itself was unthinkable, "_we cannot risk the mare giving birth to a demon_."

Alanna lifted her head, having hid her eyes for most of the conversation, "_And why would they give birth to a demon?"_

Sheku recoiled slightly at her eyes before answering her question, "They have been mounted by Ambrean el Tekes," he whispered the title, as though the name was taboo.

Having shifted back into Common, Alanna asked for elaboration on Sheku's answer, "And that is?"

Sheku paled beneath his dark skin and hurriedly shook his head, "No! I cannot say!" He shifted back into his native tongue and continued to refuse to answer, working himself up into a panic.

"Sheku!" A voice cut through his panic like a whip and they turned to face the chief, Sheku gratefully retreated, leaving them alone with the leader of the untameable people.

Alanna took a moment to appraise him; his dark skin was synonyms with the people of El'Midador, as was his long black hair. Woven through the thick and shiny strands were feathers and he had a talon pierced through his ear lobe.

"I am called Yaotne," as he spoke to Raku his teeth flashed white in the sun, "am I correct in assuming, your highness, that you require a second mount?"

Purple eyes flicked to Raku, " I do. However I am unsure how it works."

Yaotne looked surprised that it was Alanna who required the mount and said so. "Forgive me, but I am confused. You require the mount?"

Alanna nodded, "Yes."

The chief bowed quickly, "My apologies, your highness?"

At Raku's sharp nod he continued, "Now. To obtain a Tahakén mount, you are able to select from our cast offs, the horses kicked from the herd and trained to the Tahakén standard. Or, you can choose your own sire and mare and create a foal to your liking. It may take several tries, but no doubt we will get a horse close enough to your desires."

There was no doubt in Alanna's mind of the horse she wanted, "I'll take the second option."

The chief nodded, most Tahakén Princes, and now a Princess, opted to create their own mounts.

"We will set out immediately," Yaonte bowed and turned and began to roar orders. Immediately warriors scrambled, like ants, and horses were brought forward.

A dainty mare, with a coat that looked like it was spun from gold and a mane and tail soaked in snow, was led forward and Alanna felt her heart pang, Moonlight. She swiftly buried the feeling of loss, knowing it would led her down a path she was determined not to go down, and offered her palm to the mare, a sugar cube appearing in her hand. The horse took it gently and lipped her hand hoping for more, and Alanna had to smile.

She drew closer and stood next to her shoulder, _Beautiful," _she asked, running her hand along the silken coat_, "what are you called?_

The mare tossed her head in surprise and took a few steps back, before hesitantly coming closer when Alanna told her she would not hurt her.

_I am Zochalea,_ the mare nuzzled her face and Alanna shifted to her side and mounted easily,_ flower, how very fitting._

Next to her, Raku mounted a large dun as the chief accepted his own mount, a dark roan.

A band of warriors formed around them, bristling with weapons. Alanna appraised them, certain that her last visit had not found this many warriors accompanying them.

The group left the village at a steady trot and before long were cantering through a forest, " We are taking the direct route to the herd, however I may require your assistance in the crossing, which will take several hours off the journey. That is, if you want to get there as soon as possible," Yaonte spoke, clearly requesting their help in a way that made it seem to be in their interests.

Alanna nodded, "Of course, I want to have a look now."

Several minutes later they slowed to a walk and edged out onto a cliff, opposite them, was the other side. The gap was too large to jump across, several horse lengths wide and so dangerous that she glanced over the edge and winced at what she saw. The two pieces of earth looked as though they had been grasped and pulled apart, the fissure was gaping and sharp teeth of rock splintered the sides, all the way down to the stream winding its way to the sea. Even from this height she could see the rocks littering the riverbed.

The warriors were very careful to keep their horses from the edge, most remained within the forest as though afraid the very earth would swallow them.

"If you would assist us in the crossing, we are almost there," spoke the chief, edging his mount from the edge and allowing Raku and Alanna forward.

Zochalea was hesitant, but at Alanna's urging moved closer to the edge, though she tossed her head and shifted nervously.

_Easy, flower_, Alanna calmed her with her hand; _no harm shall come to you_.

Alanna turned to Raku, to find him next to her, his dun sweating at being so near the edge but unable to move as Raku had commanded him.

"Ladies first," Raku offered, with a low bow from the saddle, his emerald eyes smirking

Alanna glared at him and turned to her immediate problem, how to get all the warriors and their horses across the gap, without spooking the horses and terrifying the people even more.

After a moment the earth began to rumble and crack and the horses gave screams of terror as their riders fought for control. Raku's dun gave a rear and tried to back from the edge, Raku swiftly spoke to him, calming him.

The rocks from the stream rose through the air and were joined by the splinters of rock from the sides. Clear water rose from the stream and looked like a skeleton across the gap, arching, like a bridge. Blocks of stone rotated and moved into position, each moulding against the water and compacting. Eventually, a bridge composed entirely of stone stretched across the earth, with railings on each side and the seams of water hardened and turned crystal.

Alanna sighed, feeling her magic drain at the extensive use and turned to Raku, brow arched. The Tahakén Prince grinned, "Nice."

She impishly inclined her head before urging Zochalea onto the stone, the mare hesitated but made her way out onto the bridge. Raku moved up next to her, his dun tossing his head. There was a great clatter as the warriors followed them across the bridge, hurrying as though it would collapse as soon as the Tahakén Royalty left it.

Alanna turned to Yaonte, "It will hold always, unless purposely collapsed by a Mage." The chief bowed even lower in the saddle, as the warriors stirred, "Many thanks."

They continued riding for a good hour, crossing small streams and weaving through trees. At one stage they were forced single file, through a marsh, where large blocks of smooth stone were positioned within jumping distance and their mounts leapt from stone to stone. Even Raku, who had seen Tahakén horses do many a thing, was impressed by the horses balance and strength.

Eventually the marshland edged onto grassland plain and the chief moved up next to Alanna and Raku, "this is the last plain before the cliffs; we should reach the herd before nightfall."

Alanna nodded, she had suspected so.

They rested their horses on the way across the plain, dismounting and walking for a good hour and a half through the lush grass. Then they rested beneath some trees and broke their fast with supplies from the saddlebags as the horses grazed nearby.

It was nearing evening when they came to the end of the valley; in front of them was a great cliff, stretching high into the sky. A group of horsemen were lounging beneath a set of trees, idly watching the herd and a great stallion, the colour of dried blood, watched them approach, nostrils flaring.

He screamed a challenge and immediately the warriors leapt to their feet, eyes scanning wildly, weapons in hands. As they saw Alanna's group they quietened and sheathed their weapons, some went to the stallion to calm him and ropes were strung about his neck before he was dragged to a large post and tethered.

The mares and foals watched curiously as the group approached and Alanna sighed in awe, they were beautiful, so beautiful and she couldn't wait to have one.

Breaking away from the warriors the chief returned to Alanna as she dismounted.

"What do you know about our horses?"

Alanna forced her eyes away from a gorgeous bay filly near her, "I came once, with the Crimson Dawn."

Yaonte blinked in surprise before regaining his composure, "This herd is different from that herd," he explained, "these horses are not tame, not even slightly, we do not interfere with their daily lives, though lately..."

Feathers caught as he shook his head before resuming his speech, "You can choose any mare we have, and when she foals, you can look it over."

"And the stallion?" Alanna asked, eyeing the herd leader in satisfaction.

"You can have him," Yaonte nodded in the direction of the furious stallion, "as he has fought and won this herd, he is the best. Or you can choose from any other Stallion we have."

Alanna nodded with a grin, "Excellent."

Raku was looking over the horses and was eyeing a particularly large mare in interest though Alanna was eyeing a young white filly, which was shyly standing behind her mother. She was dainty, with delicate bones and soft intelligent eyes and her mane and tail were little puffs of cloud.

One of the warriors, who had been guarding the horses, edged closer, "She has already been Promised," he told her, "You will have to choose another."

Alanna turned to him slowly, "Oh?" she asked, a brow arching.

He gulped and began to explain, "When a horse is Promised at birth, it means he or she belongs to their rider, they cannot be mated without permission. Snigurka is to belong to Haezea."

"Mh," Alanna drifted off, sharpening her eyes; shadows were falling over the plains, so she could properly run her eyes across a large bay colt.

"You may look them over tomorrow, as we need to move the herd into the cove, for protection," Yaonte spoke as he came up to her.

Alanna nodded her consent and he led her over to the tree, "If you would wait here while we move the herd?"

The warriors guarding the horses called their own mounts to them and began to circle the herd at a trot. Zochalea and the other mares from Alanna and Raku's group were included in the round up; while the Stallions were tethered to other posts and snorted excitedly as the herd began to move in the direction of the cliffs.

Enhancing her eyesight, Alanna could see there was a small gap in between them, evidently enlarged by hand, just big enough to fit an unmounted horse. The great Stallion was snorting as he fought to be freed and almost trampled the warrior who released the ropes about him. Tossing his head he cantered towards his harem, and followed them into the cliffs.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

The light from the fire cast feathers of light across the grass and a gentle breeze rippled across the water. Waves rolled upon the beach and blanketed the soft sounds of the horses settling into sleep.

"I have a question," Alanna offered, disturbing the peace. Yaonte glanced up at her.

"What does Promised mean?"

The chief blinked into the flames before leaning back, "When a child is born, he or she is Promised to a new-born foal, or to one about to be born." Seeing Alanna's questioning look he elaborated, "We bond ourselves to our horses, enabling a high awareness for both rider and mount. This bond allows us to communicate in a more intimate manner than normal horses and riders, we can feel if our horse is injured and they can "speak" to us."

Both Alanna and Raku appeared interested, with Raku speaking, "What happens when they die?"

A pained look crossed Yaonte's face and was mirrored by the warriors who were listening to the conversation, "If they die a natural death, of old age, and if they are slain in battle they are buried."

"Then why were you burning that-"

"We do not permit our horses to be mate without our presence and approval, any foal born without consent is slain at birth." Here the chief paused and seemed to hesitate before continuing at Alanna's urging. "Four years ago, our prized mare gave birth, to twins." Around them the warriors stirred and glanced about skittishly.

"She was a beauty and we were waiting to Promise her foal to Haezea, then one night she went missing, we couldn't find her for several days. Eventually she returned, without a scratch and she was mated to Abner," he nodded into the shadows, where the Stallion stood watch over the herd.

"Nine months after her mating, she gave birth to two stillborn foals," Alanna frowned, knowing that it look at least eleven months for gestation, "she died in the birthing. It was only when we had cleaned her and lowered her into the ground, did we realise that one of the foals was alive."

The warriors about them stiffened and muttered beneath their breaths, "Ambrean el Tekes."

Yaonte sighed, "It was nearing the evening, when we had fed the colt and were putting him to rest when it occurred to us, that he had yet to open his eyes. We were wrong... he had..."

"What happened then?" Alanna asked, the only sound in the uncannily still night.

"We drove him off, and left him to die, no warrior would go near him."

Raku stirred, "He survived?"

"Yes," said Yaonte shortly, "And has been plaguing our herds ever since."

Alanna moved to ask another question by Yaonte held up his hand, "No, no more. We may bring him upon us."

He rose to his feet, and the warriors gratefully followed before fleeing the fire and the conversation.

"A good night to you both," Yaonte spoke before vanishing into the darkness.

"Well," Raku sighed, "That was interesting. Fancy a swim?"

Alanna blinked, "What?"

"A swim, you know. When you remove your clothes and flap about in water."

Amethyst eyes narrowed, "What make you think I'll take my clothes off? And no, not really."

Shrugging Raku got to his feet, "I bet I could convince you," he promised as he removed his boots and socks, he seemed tense.

Alanna made a noise which could have been taken as agreement or denial as Raku removed his shirt. Rolling over to face the stars, Alanna closed her mind, ensuring he couldn't access her thoughts, and gaze, lingering on his toned abdomen.

Soft footsteps announced Raku heading for the water's edge and Alanna left her gaze follow him, running her eyes over his body and felt an unfamiliar jolt of desire stir within her. Breathing deeply she turned away, not wanting to watch the handsome man enter the water.

She wondered, as she lay there alone in the dark, when she had started to view Raku as more than a...friend... He was certainly handsome; in fact he was probably the most handsome man she had ever seen, including Duke Roger and his cousin.

When she was held captive as a slave, she came to see Raku as something of a reluctant mentor, someone who could teach her a great deal. After a while he became the only friend she had, Anya was too young to understand and held Alanna in awe, but Raku could hold an intelligent conversation for hours on end and was oddly patient in teaching her.

Then after her escape from the Dawn, when he had revealed himself to be a Tahakén Prince, she had felt fear and apprehension, but still a sliver of trust, of the bond she thought they had.

It had cleared when he had tortured her, had encouraged screams to tear themselves from her throat and marred her skin with scars. She loathed him, feared him, feared the pain he could inflict. Then he had broken her, made her into a Tahakén Princess and she saw the memory of Tamsin and understood, everything he did to her, had been done to him, he, like she, had no choice.

After that she had been more...accommodating, willing to forgive everything he had done to her and instead turned to him again as her mentor. It was after her first successful mission, one where she was forced to murder a dozen children, that she realised, she was as broken as he and that no one, not even the other slaves, truly understood what it meant to be Tahakén Royalty.

Sure they knew that they went through more pain than anyone else, but they hadn't experienced it, their insignificant minds could not comprehend the centuries of agony, the suffering and torment with no respite.

Only a Tahakén Prince, or Princess, could understand the horror upon awakening one day to realise that you could challenge a God, with the power you possess. That you can walk into a room and murder everyone in there within heartbeats and no one would know, that you could destroy the world.

Only a Tahakén understood the need, the raw desire to cause suffering on everyone and everything, to hear screams not your own ringing across the land and to stain land crimson with the blood of their people.

Only a Tahakén Royal understood what she was, and what she would become, for there was no escape, she was a Tahakén Princess; she was unstoppable, unkillable, unlovable.

After this realisation she watched him, wanting to feel as though she wasn't the only one to feel the way she did. She learnt Raku loved to dance, even though he pretended he was nonchalant about it, she learnt he loved to play music and his love taught her to love music. His favourite colour was a hunter green and that as a child he had dreamt of flying and his father took him fishing and taught him how to sail. Walnuts were his favourite nut as his father used to crack them in front of the fire and lilies were his favourite flower because his mother loved them.

While he helped teach her everything from pain to carving, swimming to dancing, cooking to sewing and fighting to healing, the most important thing he taught her was that even though he was broken, he had found himself. Found a semblance of peace among the carnage that was his life and had built upon it, he was Raku, Tahakén Prince only in title.

There was a soft crunch as Raku returned and Alanna stilled her mind, "Nice swim?" She asked him, eyes closed.

"Yeah, almost had a tussle with a shark, but he ran away."

"Right," Alanna drawled and she could feel him smile, even though she couldn't see.

"Thought some more scars would attract the ladies?" She asked, feeling immensely proud there was not a waver in her tone.

"Sounds like a plan," Raku flopped down onto the grass, taking the time to watch the woman uninterrupted.

She was beautiful by moonlight, strands of hair falling across her face and he resisted the urge to move and brush them off. Fire danced across her smooth skin and Raku watched the play of colours across her soft lips and the heat the lingered beneath his skin always, roared to life.

Swallowing a groan he turned away and gazed at the stars, naming the constellations of this world before moving onto the next, using anything to keep his mind of the stunning woman laying several feet away from him.

He had loved her for a long time, back then he hadn't know what it was, thinking he only desired a woman as it had been a while. He had cast aside the feeling by bedding a woman, several to be exact, but the feeling came back whenever he set eyes upon the girl. When the Lady of Golden Fields had summoned her, he had given in to his feeling and had watched each time they would bathe, or when the Lady had requested her presence in her bedroom.

Then he would kick himself and bed another woman, trying and failing to rid the images in his mind. When he felt her sneak into the barn, he had followed, curious, ready to murder any man she was meeting, and had been ecstatic to find her practicing a warrior's art, ecstatic because this gave him an excuse to see her, to be near her, to touch her.

Then the night he had killed the Royal family and he had slaughtered the guards and defeated Micheal, he had watched Alanna take on Brophy and had inwardly rejoiced that she beaten him. He had then followed her flight, but had been delayed by the storm. When he took her to Tahakén he pleaded with The Master to be allowed to train her, He consented and Alanna's training began.

He had trained her as he had trained no other, realising now that he had pushed her only so she would understand, hoping to break her so she could be killed but also hoping that she wouldn't, that she would progress and join him.

He had been furious, when The Master had said she was to be married and had snuck away, placing various spells on the man to make him think that he had slept with her, that he had taken her innocence, when in fact he had done nothing of the sort, nor would Raku allow it while he drew a breath. He told himself it was because she reminded him of his sister, and cast aside thoughts that no man should be having about his sister, trying not to imagine her in his bed.

Then on her return to Tahakén, he had made her into a Slave of Slaves, the first step on the road to become a member of Tahakén Royalty. It was when they were in the bath, and he entered her mind to see what she was dreaming that he realised, he loved her. Alanna made him feel alive, gave him cause to get out of bed every morning, taught him how to live. She was his life.

It was after this comprehension that he knew he would never let another man touch her without her permission, and that the only man he wanted touching her was him. He devised a plan, wanting her to want him, wanting her to love him and not be forced. He needed her. As she was taught all arts, he would reveal parts of himself, parts she had brought out in him and he watched her respond, smiling and laughing and his heart would swell, knowing that he had been the cause of it.

Soon, very soon, he would make a move, and hopefully she felt the same way.

Raku was brought back to the present when Alanna stirred and sat up, he had been too preoccupied on planning his move that he had failed to notice the air had changed.

The horses were restless and the Stallion was eyeing the cliffs, his neck arched.

Alanna rose to her feet, Raku following her, _Do you hear that?_

Raku sharpened his hearing as Alanna had obviously done and focused past the breathing of the horses and the soft snores of some of the warriors on the steady footsteps of an approaching horse, they were barely audible, even to his sensitised ears.

_Let's take a look,_ his voice echoing inside Alanna's mind. She nodded and slipped silently into the darkness, sticking to the shadows, nothing but a blur beneath the stars.

They slipped past the sentries and warriors like a winds whisper and edged through the trees. A black smudge was in the darkness and Alanna stilled as she saw a shiny black in the shadows.

Suddenly a scream pierced the air, and the warriors leapt to their feet. The Stallion was rearing, ears flat and teeth bared, next to a pale coated mare. Torches sprang to life as the warriors charged towards them, lighting the night with fire. The stallion appeared to be fighting a phantom, for there was no visible opponent. Alanna, tired of viewing everything in the eye of a cat, summoned her Gift and immediately purple light exploded along the beach.

A Stallion, as black as night was soundlessly meeting the red Stallions challenge as his teeth and hooves struck out. The warriors neared them and the challenger released the defender, before spinning and galloping into the darkness, as he came past Alanna stiffened, his eyes were the same colour as his coat, there was no white around his eye, as there should be. This Stallion was as pure as night, Embrean el Tekes.

The red stallion gathered himself to chase the legendary horse and the warriors followed, Raku came up beside her.

"Seen something you like?" Raku breathed, resigned, knowing she had already made her decision.

Alanna nodded, "I want that one, the Shadow of Death."

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

**Author's Note:**

Merry Christmas everyone! I hope you all had a good time with your friends and family and have a safe break and new year. I know it's been a while, hopefully I am back in your good books. I also hope you liked my insight into Raku/Alanna's relationship, hopefully they get together soon :D Raku is rather keen on it :D

** R. Daggers:** I'm afraid I don't quite understand what you are saying. Do you mean it has been so long since an up-date? Anyway, welcome.

** Sir Breanna:** Welcome! And thank you!

** Scheubyy:** I love Harry Potter :D One of my favourite series ever! Thank you! You are welcome to write the Fic's yourself :D I would enjoy reading them :D Your loyalty gives me warm fuzzies :D

** NeuroticNeko:** There are now :D Welcome.

** MAKAELA:** Welcome and thank you!

** Danaye:** Thank you firstly, for the long review. I do love to read them. I agree, I have found the same thing happens to me! Thank you for your comments, warms my heart it does :P

** :** Thank you. However, as you saw, they are not together-yet :D

** Fang:** I feel on repeat, every chapter I say thank you, I find it may be getting old. However, I shall say it once again, Thank you, my loyal friend :D

_Edit:_ Ambrean el Tekes sounds like.

Am-BRE-anne L TECH-ez :D


	29. Ashnidante

Chapter Twenty-Seven

_Ashnidanté _

_xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx_

_A Stallion, as black as night was soundlessly meeting the red Stallions challenge as his teeth and hooves struck out. The warriors neared them and the challenger released the defender, before spinning and galloping into the darkness, as he came past Alanna stiffened, his eyes were the same colour as his coat, there was no white around his eye, as there should be. This Stallion was as pure as night, Embrean el Tekes._

_The red stallion gathered himself to chase the legendary horse and the warriors followed, Raku came up beside her._

"_Seen something you like?" Raku breathed, resigned, knowing she had already made her decision._

_Alanna nodded, "I want that one, the Shadow of Death._

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Alanna sighed as she entered the stream water and strode in until she was up to her chin. Above her the small waterfall peered down at her, water cascading softly over its banks and through the veil, she could see a small cave.

She unwound her hair and let it fall in rivers down her back, slowly sinking back into the water, fully submerging and swimming out further to the bottom, where she turned and opened her eyes. Above her the turbulent water of the waterfall swirled and she swam slightly closer, letting the churning waters wash the grime from her skin.

After a while she resurfaced, her skin with a slight blush, and from the streamside, where she left her clothing and blade, several bottles rose and shot across the water to her.

Selecting a bottle of soft crimson, she tipped some onto her hands and began to lather it through her hair, a subtle sweet scent coating the night air. A nearby owl hooted and she could hear the soft wing strokes cutting through the air. She took the time to massage her scalp, to rid it of dirt and grime, but smile crossed her features when she recalled how she had got it there.

She was now the proud owner of a Tahakén Stallion, Ambrean el Tekes, the Shadow of Death, though he had certainly tried to bring hers about. Her body, as battle trained and endured as it was, had taken a fair beating from the legendary mount. Having lived as an enemy of man, the horse had an almost unnatural level of understanding human behaviour, words and body language; he also seemed to understand what human's limits were.

During her hunt for him, she questioned the Chief relentlessly, learning ever single detail he had to share about him. She learned he never made a sound, struck always during the night and had an uncanny ability to avoid traps and escape the Warriors, vanishing without a trace. Having scouted every inch of El'Midador, they had concluded there was no possible place for the stallion to hide for as long as he had, concluding that he was a Demon bound in horse-form. And no demon was found unless he wanted it.

He found them. He came from nowhere, arriving beneath the cover over the sky and watching as they succumbed to sleep, he reared a challenge and slipped into the night. The horsemen gathered their mounts and followed him, for they were on a plain, with views on all sides. Alanna and Raku used their ability as Tahakén Royalty to spur their mounts on; when the others tired they offered their Gift to their horses, enabling them to pursue the stallion for longer.

Raku was the first to fall back, claiming he wouldn't be able to sustain his mount without damaging it permanently. Zochalea was determined to catch Ambrean el Tekes, asking for even more Magic until she was brimming with it. Eventually Alanna ordered her to halt, not willing to risk the life of the sweet little mare and grudgingly, sides heaving, she slowed. Alanna dismounted, gave the mare instructions to return to the warriors and continued on foot.

Ahead of them the shadow slowed, an inky blot against the dully lit plain. The night continued on, the horse staying several lengths ahead of Alanna, almost toying with her before entering the forest ahead. Then Alanna moved, calling upon her training and skill, shifting silently up into the trees, following him from above, casting a spell to cause the leaves crackle and branches move as though she were still earth bound.

Several lengths into the forest the removed the spell and watched as the stallion paused, tossing his head, ears pricked and staring in the direction he thought her to be.

Raising his head he took several steps back after her, swivelling his ears, the inhabitants of the forest had registered her presence and were completely silent.

Waiting above him, Alanna paused before launching herself forward and flying through the air and throwing her arms about the mighty stallion's neck. He threw himself into the air with a scream of rage, the first sound she had ever heard him make, and proceeded to charge through the forest.

Alanna hung on for dear life as Ambrean el Tekes tried to throw her, or kill her, she wasn't sure which. Ducking low to avoid a branch she yelled at him, in both _Song_ and El'Midadorian, "_You will have to do better than that!"_

Snorting he suddenly stopped, head bowed, but Alanna felt the movement pass through his body and managed to shift backwards, enabling her to remain seated.

Tossing his head the stallion ran forwards and twisted, slamming his body against a tree, he gave a snort in pain as his body connected, not hers, she had lifted herself to his other side.

Bursting from the forest he galloped across the plain towards a small stream before halting and flipping his body forward in a roll. Alanna blinked in shock before swiftly leaping free of the rolling horse, she landed oddly before shaking herself and spinning around back to him. He was slowly getting to his feet and shook himself, dirt falling from his coat.

Ears flat he watched her run at him and spun at the last moment, presenting her with two deadly hooves, nimbly dodging to the side, she threw herself up and onto his back. Snorting he began to spin, faster and faster before stopping and throwing his head skyward, hoping to force Alanna forward onto his neck. Alanna's reactions were faster and she threw her body backwards, entangling her fingers into his mane.

The black stallions back arched and he bucked, furiously trying to toss her, then he began to gallop, lifting all four legs off the ground as he launched himself into the air, his head lowered.

Clamping her thighs around his girth she clung to his back, shifting her body as he swung this way and that. Blood thundering in her ears, she leant forward, taking a risk, and clamped her hand around the top of his muzzle, dragging his head towards her. He turned, but continued charging forward, unable to see where he was going as he tried to free himself.

Alanna glanced up from where she was trying to avoid his teeth and stiffened, for the first time she was gazing directly into Ambrean el Tekes' coal eyes. She could see her own, mirrored in his and for the briefest of moments, she saw through his eyes, into his life.

She saw the joy at his birth and the sadness as his dam and brother died, and the hunger as he was left in the rain, all alone. She saw the fear as thunder and lightning lashed overhead without explanation and she saw the bite of the human weapons as they hit his skin. She saw the thrill in the chase, the speed in which he possessed and the skill in which he evaded the hunters. Finally she saw him standing on a cliff, observing the humans as they fell into sleep and then she understood. Ambrean el Tekes was no demon, no, he was King.

A movement ahead of her forced her gaze from the stallion's eyes and her own widened as she realised where they were running to. Ahead of them, the stones of a stream slopped down into a deep pool, flanked on both sides by a small bank.

Growling she refused to release his muzzle, forcing him to continue forward, unaware of the impending water. She knew he had seen it when he tried to force his head back around, trying to slow, but she put her heels into his side, hard, and he jumped forward unexpectedly, tumbling down the bank and into the water.

The shock of the water made her loosen her hold on the stallion and he jerked away, ripping his muzzle from her grasp and directly into the current.

Gasping, Alanna released him and turned for the bank, the breath leaving her lungs as a powerful hoof slammed into her as Ambrean el Tekes swam away, heading for the banks.

Reaching the banks she hauled herself up the side before panting in the grass, gazing at the sky. After a few moments she got to her feet and began to follow the river downstream, ahead she could see her horse clambering unsuccessfully up the sides of the bank.

A scream of frustration gave away his predicament and Alanna jogged easily alongside the river, slowly catching him, in no hurry, he couldn't go anywhere, yet.

It was when she was alongside him when she felt a disturbance ahead, glancing to the now frantic stallion she jogged ahead, picking up the pace as she heard the distinctive sound of water crashing over rocks at a chaotic pace.

Approaching the edge of the cliff, she saw a vortex of white water swirling over rocks beneath a twenty foot drop. Behind her, the horse was surging against the current, making no leeway but not drifting any closer to his death. For a moment she marvelled at his strength before shaking herself and thinking frantically.

For a moment she considered halting the flow of water, but that would still leave her with the difficulty of creating a path out for the stallion, then she thought about lifting him from the water, but realised it could send him into a panic. Glancing about her, she saw tall trees, with a fallen tree nearest to her. It was huge, bother her and Raku wouldn't be able to reach each other around its widest girth.

She flicked her hand and purple fire coated the tree, slowly lifting it into the sky before inching it towards her. Angling the tree several lengths behind the stallion, she lowered it into the water and drove it into the riverbed.

Black eyes gazed at what she had done before he stopped fighting the current, and allowed himself to be swept backwards and into the tree. A shudder ran through the tree as he crashed into it, but it held and Ambrean glanced over to see what she was doing next, curious now he was safe.

A rock rose from the river and floated towards her, curving and slimming until it represented a scoop.

Purple fire coated a thick branch and connected it to the stone, creating a crude shovel which Alanna grabbed and began to stab into the bank.

After a few minutes she sensed Raku approaching, several minutes later he appeared around the bend, Zochalea following him daintily.

He halted a few lengths away and dismounted easily, his long strides easing the distance between them. His green eyes swept the scene, a brow rising at her makeshift shovel. He flicked his wrist and an outline of shovel materialised in the air ahead of him. It solidified into crystal and Raku swept it from the air, jumping into the small hole she had already made.

She glared at his elaborate shovel before shaking her head at his smirk and slamming it into the earth.

"Are we making a ramp or are we making stairs?"

Alanna thought for a moment, "Ramp, I don't think he has the strength for the stairs, not yet at least."

Raku nodded, understanding her reasoning of not crafting the ramp magically and spooking the stallion before they bonded and in giving her some of her magic when he was so distrustful of humans in general.

They worked quietly, happy in their own company, casting glances to each other, feeling something building, but unwilling to air or name it and break the uneasy truce they had reached.

After a while of digging, a goblet of water rose from the river, purifying and drifting over to Alanna. Smiling at Raku, she accepted the drink before sending it through the air to him.

He took a few large gulps before pouring the rest over his head, the cup dispersing back into water watched by a set of obsidian eyes. Pausing, Raku glanced over at the stallion who was eyeing him cautiously, ears pricked as water kept him snug against the tree.

Returning to his digging he glanced over to the red-head, who had her hair over one shoulder and was digging into the earth with grim determination, a slight sheen of sweat covering her visible skin.

Shaking his head of such thoughts he poured his frustration into the ground, harshly jabbing the earth with his crystal shovel. Alanna glanced up slightly and for a second he saw concern, or he hoped he did, before she returned to her own digging.

A few more shovels of dirt later and the water of the river rose up the bank and flooded the ramps base.

Alanna dropped her shovel and walked over to Zochalea, who was grazing nearby, having been ordered to stay close by Raku. She returned with several coils of rope, leading the mare and Raku's gelding towards Raku.

Taking a running leap, she tore from the bank and landed easily on the tree, before steading herself and nimbly along the length of the tree, easily evading the branches and water lapping at the bark. Ambrean el Tekes watched her approach with caution, but was too exhausted to do anything but watch her. When she was a few meters from him, she uncoiled the rope and tied it into a lasso.

The Stallion's eyes widened and he began to toss his head, moving it from side to side, but Alanna timed the release of the rope perfectly and it settled easily around the stallions neck. He jerked back, slipping further down the tree and deeper into the current.

Growling Alanna tied the rope to one of the larger branches sticking out above the water and then slipped from the tree, swimming deeper into the river, past her horse. He was more concerned with freeing his head to notice her climb back onto the tree and inch along behind him.

Uncoiling another rope from her shoulder she moved forward and her footsteps alerted the horse to her presence and he jerked away. Alanna created another loop in the rope and threw it forward, to his flank. The rope slowly sank, before being caught in the current and being swept beneath the stallions body.

Alanna swiftly moved forward and Ambrean el Tekes swam into the current away from her and she took the moment to dive into the water, holding onto the rope as the stallion forced himself against the current, away from her. Reaching the loop in the rope she passed her end through it before tying her final rope to it. Then she swam back to the tree and ran across its length, releasing the rope holding the stallions head, dragging the rope through the current to the bank.

On shore she called Zochalea forward and tied the rope to her saddle, Raku did the same and then he began to lead both mounts away, dragging the stallion through the current. The stallion's eyes pricked as he was limply pulled through the water towards the bank, the two mounts straining in effort as he became heavier and heavier.

At the ramp he slowly hauled himself up it, mindful of the rope about his girth and the lasso looped about his neck.

On land he stood shivering, body slumped and head lowered in exhaustion, his coal eyes sweeping the area. There was a disturbance at the corner of the river and the Chief and his people slowly approached, weapons drawn eyeing the stallion in distrust.

Alanna moved forward and stood in front of him, calmly staring down the weapons. Raku came and stood next to her after securing both mounts in position.

An overzealous warrior rose his bow and let loose an arrow, directly at the stallion, whose head snapped up and he danced backward, throwing himself into a rear to miss the bolt. At the stallions unnatural actions more arrows were fired and Alanna gave a shout of rage, her hand lashing out to catch each of the arrows in amethyst fire.

Ambrean el Tekes lowered himself to all fours, eying the woman warrior easily, all signs of fatigue gone. The Chief spoke rapidly to the Tahakén Royalty, his voice quivering in rage as he pointed to the black stallion.

Alanna calmly answered, shrugging the threat off and offering her own.

After a few terse moments, in which the El'midadorian people turned black with rage, they turned and left and Alanna turned to Raku, "Well…that went well."

Raku turned and glanced at the stallion watching them before giving a half nod and approaching his own mount, a rope appearing in front of him as he mounted. Alanna returned to Zochalea and removed a bow and a quiver of arrows from across the saddle.

"There is a stream, not far from here, that is connected to the river. I will make camp there." Raku informed her as he urged his mount away and gave instructions to Zochalea.

Alanna nodded, patting the mare affectionately on the neck as she walked away and vanished into the forest. A pair of obsidian eyes watched her go as the stallion was led between the two mounts across the plains.

Dusk had fallen when Alanna returned, a young buck slung across her shoulders, blood leaking down her neck and across her back.

Zochalea and her herd mate were grazing nearby and watched her as she approached before returning to their meal. Ambrean el Tekes was tied rather severely to several trees, too the mounts and then around several rocks that appeared to have been summoned from the earth.

She raised an eyebrow at Raku, who was tending to a nice fire, who shrugged, "Can you even imagine your reaction if he managed to escape under my watch?"

Black eyes watched her as she entered the clearing and lowered the venison onto the ground, their saddlebags were in a corner and she moved over to them, lowering her bow and quiver. "I'll save you the heart?" Raku asked with a smirk.

Alanna thought about it for a moment as she rummaged through her saddlebags, selecting a fresh set of clothing, her soaps and shampoo. "Sure," she answered, smiling at him as she followed her ears to the stream.

Drawn from her thoughts by a crack she turned her attention behind her, head slightly to the side, knowing Raku had purposely alerted her to his presence.

There was a soft sound of clothes sliding from skin before he slid into the water and waded through the water until he was behind her. A shifting in the air told her he was going to summon the green bottle even before it happened.

Goosebumps ran across her skin as the water about them receded and rose against an invisible barrier a few feet away from their skin. She could feel the warmth the man behind was radiating into the cool air and sighed as his large, callused hands began to lather the lotion onto her skin. The green lotion was a mixture of Healing Balm and her favourite body fragrance.

Raku took the time to massage the oils into her skin, gently brushing her hair from her neck when need be and eventually Alanna relaxed, sighing into his gentle touch.

They both remained silent as the Tahakén Prince worked his way down her back, kneading the knots from her muscles and rubbing soothing lotion onto her bruises.

Eventually he finished and slowly, reluctantly removed his hands from her skin, the water about them rushing back into place, causing Alanna to shudder.

There was silence for a long while and the heat from Raku's body contrasted deliciously to the chill of the water and the crisp night air. She could hear Raku take a deep breath, his exhale on her neck made her shiver, before his arms slowly came up around her. Alanna tensed within the shell of his arms and fortified herself before turning and facing him, staring into his green eyes.

By moonlight his shaggy brown hair had silver highlights and his emerald eyes seemed to glow a dark hunter green as he gazed at her, his arms secure around her, but she didn't feel caged, rather she felt protected, safe.

Before her Training, Alanna was sure her breath would be hurried and swift, not the steady, rhythmic inhale and exhale matching her heartbeat.

A day's worth of stubble hugged his jaw and she whispered, "The deer."

Raku's voice rumbled in response, "It can wait. This, you, are more important."

Alanna felt her breath catch, before she forced it to continue and taking the bravery of all those who had come before her she allowed, "Where does this leave us, what do you want?"

A large hand came up to caress her face, drawing her chin from her chest, "You. All of you and only you, for as long as you will have me, Alanna." Raku's voice was as soft as the breath on her face and she swallowed, the feelings and thoughts she had had and had been having, flooding into being.

Gazing into Raku's eyes, seeing what she had seen those many years ago with George, she closed her eyes, believing every word he had said, wanting what his caress promised.

Raku took her silence for acquiescence and leaned slowly in only to halt when she spoke, her hand on his muscular chest, "You can kiss me, on one condition."

A smile crossed Raku's face, erasing years from his skin and presence, "And what would that be?" He asked, playing along.

Alanna's eyes opened and she smirked, "No facial hair, its scratchy and-"

She was cut off by soft lips pressing against hers, demanding and fierce as the man who possessed them and the heat that lingered in her body roared to life as her arms latched themselves around his neck and his around her waist.

When air became necessary she pulled back and tucked her head beneath his chin as he nuzzled her hair, their breath slightly faster than normal.

"That was quick," she mumbled into his skin and she felt him smile.

"I didn't want to waste time, not when you asked me to kiss you," Raku rumbled, his arms warm about her body.

Alanna pulled back, eyebrow arched, "I didn't ask you to kiss me. I-"

Raku laughed and interrupted her, "Telling me to shave before I kiss you, is certainly a request."

She glared at him before a wave of water cascaded over him, steering clear of her as she drew back and swam across the stream to the bank. Green eyes watched her from the water as she turned on the bank to face him, a crooked smile on her face. "I want my bed before we go any further, Raku." She informed him softly as water fell from her skin and her clothing wrapped about her body.

Her voice drifted back to him as she gathered her gear and left, "And next time, if I ask you to kiss me, I don't want any of that nonsense. You will be putting your breath to better use."

His laughed tailed her into the night and as she entered their camp, Ambrean el Tekes' head rose to follow her about. The deer was rotating over the fire, spelled to turn at a slow speed and the wood appeared to have been spelled to burn slower than natural.

After fluffing about for a moment she moved over to stand at a safe distance in front of the stallion, who was watching her alertly.

"You are truly a magnificent beast," she told him, after a moment of appraisal, and he snorted.

"_I am going to brush you, please don't move_." She reinforced the command in Song and thickened the air about the stallion's body so that he would have extreme difficulty in moving.

His ears flew back and he stomped his foot, however the affect was lost at its difficulty, snorting he lowered his head, resigned.

Shrugging at him, Alanna summoned a brush and began to work on the tangles in his mane and tail, following it with the clumps of dirt intertwined throughout his coat. She followed up with a softer brush, grooming him until he began to glow like polished leather, Raku had returned and was watching her calmly, hands behind his head, while leaning against a tree.

Lowering the brush, Alanna took several steps back to admire her handy work and released the spell holding him, the aroma of cooking meat wafting into the night.

Sensing her appraisal the legendary horse seemed to swell, not in size but in presence, he stood tall, not as tall as Raku's Storm, but several hands off, just over 16hh. He was compactly built, with long legs with powerful lines and his mane and tail were thick and long. Accompanying his lower leg were tuffs of hair, giving him the appearance of furred boots and he had a small intelligent head.

Built for speed, his body betrayed a hidden strength as muscles rippled and he snorted, stepping away from her, lifting his feet in synchronisation as he moved.

It occurred to Alanna, as she ran her eyes over him that this horse was one sung abut in legends, a horse ridden by Gods and an untameable spirit, not meant to belong to any man.

At this thought she frowned slightly and watched as the stallion shifted and turned into the wind, arching his neck and fighting the restraints.

Alanna sighed, snapping her fingers and the ropes that bound him fell from his body. Raku opened his eyes from his position against the ground as the stallion stiffened, a ripple running through his body as he swung his head around to stare at her.

His eyes met hers and she inclined her head slightly. Understanding, if that were possible for a horse, flooded obsidian eyes before muscles tensed and the stallion was off, vanishing into the night, his footfalls fading into the distance.

Alanna watched him go, a smile on her face, even if she had to settle for a lessor horse, for Ambrean el Tekes was clearly the greatest mount in existence, it was worth it for the one memory of him charging into the darkness.

Raku said nothing, but she could feel his eyes on her as she stood next to the fire, staring blankly into the flames.

Eventually he stirred, "Take a walk and clear your head, I can hear you thinking from here."

Alanna glanced over to him, a startled look on her face, "I'm sorry, I wasn't aware I was that obvious."

Raku snorted, "Not to most, but I know you."

There was a moment's silence, bar the crackling of the fire and the sounds of the night. "You're right," Alanna agreed and shifted over to her packs, grabbing a dagger for protection before smiling at her companion and stepping into the shadows.

She had been walking, wandering aimlessly, for about two hours, when she came to a rising slope, on the skyline she could see the outline of a cliff. Internally debating as to its ascent she decide to go ahead, her body was only marginally sore, compared to normal, from her tussle with the stallion and her mind was still in turmoil, the excursion would do her good.

The night sky held an array of stars and they championed the moon in offering her light on her climb. By the time she reached the top, she was warm and limbered up, oxygen firing through her body with each steady beat of her lungs.

The top of the cliff was bathed in luminescent light and she sighed as a soft breeze ran its fingers across her face and through her hair, this was freedom. Standing on top of the world, for that's what it felt like in the night, she didn't feel as despondent about releasing the stallion and would content herself with another Tahakén mount.

Gazing out across the land, she could see the tendrils of smoke from the fire, several leagues away and started in surprise, she had walked further than she had thought. Continuing along she could see the shadow of forests, looking forbidding at night, and the silver snake of a river winding its way to the sea.

A hoot of an owl as it started caught her attention around, and she eyed the obsidian stallion as he silently emerged from the track. He drew to a stop, ears pricked and tossing his head nervously, before taking a hesitant step forward.

_Hunter._

Echoed across the cliff top and Alanna straightened, allowing the statement to roll over her, waiting for whatever the legendary mount had to say, surprised that an animal chose to speak to her in Song and that he referred to her as "Hunter."

_I was told you would come and would require a mount._

Alanna tensed, _Who told you I would come?_

The stallion gave her a look that clearly said _are-you-serious_ but he answered, _The Star. If you are willing to accept, I offer myself as your Promise._

Alanna hesitated, she had never heard of this "Star", but she did so badly want Ambrean el Tekes. _I caught you earlier, why did you not say anything? Why was I unable to communicate or command you in Song earlier?_

Snorting the stallion took another step forward,_ I am unique. There is no other like me in this realm. That is all I can say on the matter. You cannot command me, only request. As for not saying anything, you were to be tested, I had thought you failed. But then you released me. _The stallion lowered his body forward, sinking into a horse version of a bow.

Making up her mind Alanna allowed a full-blown grin to cross her face, before bowing in the stallion's direction. _I accept._

A white light, brighter than any she had ever seen before light the stallion's coat, lighting him from within before expanding outwards and rolling across the sky, before shooting upwards and dispersing above the clouds.

The stallion shook himself and straightened, standing at his full height of 16.5hh.

_What was that?_

Black ears flickered and the stallion snorted, he seemed to be mocking her, _You are the human and the mage, I am just a horse._

Alanna glared at him, "Great," she muttered to herself, "Trust me to pick a horse with an attitude."

Turning, her horse flicked his tail in her direction, before moving silently into the bush.

Alanna followed him, throwing her hands up in the air, thinking that this had to be one of the strangest moments of her life.

It took her a few moments to catch him, he was faster than she had first thought, and quieter, he also didn't appear to leave a trace, avoiding brushing against trees and standing on clumps of grass rather than dirt and mud.

_Ambrean el Tekes_, she spoke as she jumped down a rock and onto the plain.

Abruptly the stallion halted_, that is not my name_! His ears were flat to his skull and his front body lifted slightly, as though he were about to rear._ I am not The Shadow of Death. I will not answer to a name given to me by humans!_

Head cocked to the side she examined him, before nodding in acceptance, _Very well. What are you called?_ Her companion immediately relaxed and turned his small, intelligent around to look at her as she came up beside him.

_The Star named me Ashnidanté for the night I was birthed and the storm that couldn't take my spirit._

"Eternal lightning," Alanna mused as she continued walking; soundless, unbreakable, appears during darkness or the night, strikes without warning and retreats just as swift.

_A fitting name,_ she informed the stallion, _Ashnidanté it is!_

_The Immortal Hunter mounted on Eternal Lightning_, Ashnidanté agreed as he walked next to her.

Alanna hesitated at his translation of her own title before complying, after all, many thought she was immortal and she was incredibly difficult to kill, _May our legend begin!_

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**Author's Note:**

Is anyone still wanting to hear from me? Lol, sorry about the time it has taken me. I have hit a curve at the moment, not sure on where, well, how I want to get where I am going. BUT Raku and Alanna have finally taken a step in their relationship! YAY!

Also, look out for a new plot line, similar to what was done when I introduced Raku and his intro to the story. As for where I am going, do we want to cut through to this plot line, or leave it unexplored? As of now I am uncertain. The length will be taking away from Tortall, and Tahakén, but will introduce and be a part of something crucial to the future of this fic (at the moment lol)

So, do we want to skip it and leave lovely battle scenes etc and jump straight to her return to Tortall, or carry on with delicious goodness? Delicious Goodness will be angst, friendship, war, victory and a whole lot of other things that are written in my head. So, give me an idea.

On a parting note, I have moved to University :D Yay, so most of my time now will be focused on my studies, so updates may be few and far between, so I apologise.

** Laura:** Eventually she will return, though I won't say for how long :D

** Tigersky7:** Thank you :D

** Children of the Blood:** Could you elaborate as to where you think I went off track? Anything to help me continue at a standard I love to write/ people enjoy/want to read. Aw, thanks.

** Schubeyy**: Aw, thanks cutie :P Maybe when I get bored/hit a writer's block (again) I'll write some for ya :D

** RoyalLady**: Of sorts ;)

** Animato**: Welcome?

** Fang:** I know right! I was like, (before I wrote that) this chapter is way to small….. hang on! I'll add some about what they think about each other and how they got to that stage! Turned out well, If I may say so myself ;)

** Kaari8:** Thank you! George, Myles, Raoul, Gary, Duke Gareth and Baird and Queen Lianne know she is a Tahakén Princess and has been tortured. They also know she is famous and has some (a lot) of skill to be able to compete in the Lives of Death. Apart from that, they don't actually know what she can do and what she has been through. It's like meeting an old school friend who has like, a Degree in say Botanical Sciences ( Have no idea if that exists-lol). You know they deal in like plants and stuff but you don't know the extent of their knowledge, work and training. As for Jon, he has no idea she is even alive (he hopes she is) or where she is. Those people Haven't told him.


	30. A Tahaken Princess

A Tahakén Princess

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_The Star named me Ashnidanté for the night I was birthed and the storm that couldn't take my spirit._

"Eternal lightning," Alanna mused as she continued walking; soundless, unbreakable, appears during darkness or the night, strikes without warning and retreats just as swift.

_A fitting name,_ she informed the stallion, _Ashnidanté it is!_

_The Immortal Hunter mounted on Eternal Lightning_, Ashnidanté agreed as he walked next to her.

Alanna hesitated at his translation of her own title before complying, after all, many thought she was immortal and she was incredibly difficult to kill, _May our legend begin!_

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The ground shook as the group of horsemen charged past, down the cobblestones without a care for the peddlers in the street. Growling, a young man watched them with distaste but hastened in the direction they had come from, for where the Wardens went destruction wasn't far behind.

Slipping through the rubble and ruin of the once Capital City, he internally wondered what life would be like without the Wardens, without the Ruling House of Slyenthia controlling the Nation and charging the Wardens with chaos and destruction on the other Houses and their lands.

Asharn was the smallest House of the Nine, and its ruling House was once able to take care of their people and lands. Now though, their Castle was crumbling down around them, their several faithful family servants sleeping in the same wing as the Royals and eating at the same table.

Geographically, Ashran was vertically unfarmable. Barren and rocky, with cliffs and mines the people were struggling to make a living, most of the people who could leave had left generations earlier. Elders, who had been told of the more prosperous days, clung stubbornly to their roots, and youth hid in the streets, hiding from the Wardens.

Any child found and caught was taken as a slave, sold to distant Houses or forced to work for the Districts Wardens.

He personally thought that Ashran was being punished for a brief rebellion several hundred years earlier, but there was no proof of this, apart from tales told by his Nan, and everyone knew she wasn't entirely there.

No, the powerful Houses merely sought to take from those weaker than them, sending in their Wardens to the military weaker, and sending armies to rape and plunder the stronger military Districts.

There was a soft noise ahead and he froze, ears straining and the noise was heard again and he hurried forward.

Rounding the corner he saw a girl sobbing against the stone wall, her dress torn from her lower body and blood on her thighs and bruises forming on her arms.

Her long black hair was in tangles and hid her face from view, but he would know her anywhere.

"Kahalan," he croaked as he leapt forward, towards his sister.

She didn't appear to hear him, for when he reached out to touch her shoulder she leapt back, huddling against the wall, sobbing louder.

Rage rose within him and he stood panting heavily, lost within his fury as red enveloped his vision.

"Kam?" His sister asked in a soft voice, broken by sobs.

Gold eyes met gold eyes and Kam felt his fury evaporate, he couldn't go after the Wardens now, his sister needed him.

He pulled her dress down, jaw clenching and eyes averted, before leaning forward and scooping his little sister up into his arms.

"It's ok, Kahlan," he reassured her, holding her tightly, "I've got you."

She lent her head against his shoulder and went still.

Kam's long legs took him through the ruins and across the cobblestones, and towards the Castle, the seat of the House of Ashran.

It wasn't truly a castle, not like the ones he had hear about in the wealthy Districts, but every House had a Castle, and though this once great Mansion was hardly a fortress, it was stilled named as such.

Ashran Castle had very few guards, in truth there was nothing to guard. The walls had long since fallen and with no money to rebuild them they had remained in rubble, the stones being carted off by desperate villagers to become houses or the occasional wall. The men who were "guards" were the Stable Master, his apprentice, the Manservant, the Cooks son and several old men who sought refuge within the kitchen for warmth.

The Lord Ashran was elderly, the death of his wife and several children aging him and frequently his duties had fallen to his only remaining son, who was valiantly trying to feed and clothe his people, but was failing miserably. Lord Ashran even refused visits from his daughter, Kahlan, who reminded him to much of all that he had lost.

Running towards the Castle he began to scream for help, fittingly it was Craig, his father's Manservant and Captain of the Guard, who reached them, his dark features paling as he saw Kahlan.

"Master Kamaroon!" He cried and quickly took Kahlan from her brothers arms and ran into the castle, Kamaroon hot on his heels.

"Get the Cook!" He ordered and Kam veered off, running for the Kitchens.

Reaching the door he flung it open to find their elderly cook in discussion with one of his mother's former maids. Seeing the look on his face and his clothes covered in blood, they both stood and wordlessly followed him, the Cook only pausing to get her healing bag.

Craig was hovering awkwardly over the bed, on which Kahlan lay, pale and unmoving.

The women immediately ushered him out and shut the door, he paused for a moment and glanced to Kam, "I ah, guess, I had better go and inform My Lord."

Kam nodded, watching the man who had helped raise him walk away, dread lining his posture.

It was approaching daylight when he awoke, having slid down the wall to sit on the floor outside his sitters door and the door was stilled closed.

"Kam."

He glanced up and saw who had awoken him. Craig was even paler than before, deep bags beneath his brown eyes and he looked older in the faint light.

A callused hand was hovering in mid-air and he accepted it to help him up, upright the Manservant normally towered over him, but today he seemed withdrawn and there were tears in his eyes.

"I'm sorry, son, but your sister didn't make it," Craig explained softly, pulling Kam closer and holding him as he understood his words.

Internally he was screaming, howling his rage and sorrow to the Heavens and to any God that would care to listen. Externally he was crying his face etched in sorrow and then his fury rose, matching his sorrow, battling each other inside him as he fell apart in his mentors arms.

Darkness had fallen when he thought to seek out his father, rising from his bed he made his way towards his parents room, at the end of the Wing. Since his mother had died several years ago, his father had lived alone, unable to cope with the death of his eldest, second and fourth son and his youngest daughter. All that remained of the House of Ashran were the Lord and his daughter Kahlan, who had recently turned twelve and one of his sons, who was barely fifteen summers, Kamaroon.

The servants had lit the torches and they cast flickering lights over his face as he walked down the corridor. Pausing outside his father's room he straightened his clothes and knocked sharply on the door. There was no answer so he waited a moment before rapping again on the door, "My Lord?"

There was no answer and he opened the door, stepping into the room, "Father?"

The curtains were open and the last rays of light dimly lit the once elaborately furnished room, he could see the bed and a desk and chair.

Summoning his Gift he lit the room, straining at the attempt, for his Magic wasn't very strong.

Glancing to the bed, he froze, his father lay deathly still and rigid upon the sheets, a blade was next to him, in a pool of his own blood. His roar of fury brought the servants running and he fled to the dungeons, taking the dangerous stairwell, nonchalant about his own life.

Moments later Craig joined him, his father's faithful Manservant risking his life to ensure his safety. He carried a torch and used it to light the other ones in the brackets, casting light onto the cobwebs and dust. Kam peered into the darkness, taking a torch from the brace and holding it before him, as they entered further into the dungeons. This was where his ancestors were encased, his mother and siblings lay here and soon his father and sister would as well, his family would all be here, left to rot away encased in stone.

The thought disgusted him but also brought a sense of longing and loneliness. He has alone, the last of the Ashran's, and it was left to him, a fifteen year-old boy, to bring honour upon his House and to avenge his family.

The light cast shadows over his skin and his eyes sparked in the flame. Emotionally and mentally worn he sagged against the wall, ignoring the way the stone cracked at his weight.

Then it occurred to him, his enemies weren't crying alone in a dusty and crumbling dungeon, mourning what was lost and what could never be. No, they were probably out drinking or raping another girl.

Rage replaced his sorrow, building and building until he felt as though he would burst.

"I'll kill them!" He screamed, "I'll kill them all and sacrifice them to any God that will help me!"

"Killing them won't bring your sister back," Craig consoled softly, tears streaming down his face as he watched the young Lord fall apart.

Kam wrenched himself from his embrace, "How many more will they kill until it starts to matter? Until there is no one left?"

He glared at his teacher, "I will kill them all, or die trying," he vowed, "The Gods be my witness!"

Craig stared evenly at his Lords son, now his Lord, "Killing them won't bring anyone back," he hesitated, glancing to the closed door before turning back to Kam, his brown eyes hardening, "But it's a start."

Kam stared at him, "You will help me?"

Craig clamped his fist to his heart and lowered himself to one knee, "My Life and my Sword are yours, My Lord Ashran."

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Thunder rumbled through the castle, a dark cloud hanging over the broken towers and fallen walls. In one of the few stable rooms, the Lord Ashran and his manservant discussed what was to be done with the fallen House. "Milord," spoke the elderly man with greying hair, "there is nothing left for us." He paused as thunder cracked and lightening flashed, louder than before, almost like it was inside. " We have no money, we have nothing to sell, nothing to offer anyone who would even consider helping us. No one would want to help us," he continued, turning from the window.

"Oh I wouldn't say that," drawled a voice and the manservant leapt to his feet, hand shooting for the old and worn blade at his side. "Kam," he stood between the stranger and the young Lord, "Stay behind me."

The stranger leant against the wall, a long blade at his side, and had crossed his arms casually. Eyeing their uninvited guest Craig knew that if it came to a fight, the stranger would finish him, he would pose little threat to this man.

"Who are you and what do you want?" He asked, slowly backing away forcing Kam behind him. The foolish boy and drawn his dagger and was clutching it tightly. Muscles rippled beneath a blue tunic as the stranger straightened and moved off the wall.

"I am no one," a smile entered his tone and he moved from the shadows. Standing at over six foot, the stranger was almost as wide as he was tall, muscles flexed as he moved and his beard was rugged and unkempt. Black eyes appraised them cockily beneath heavy brows and tanned skin.

"As for what I want…well… I want what you want," he suddenly smiled, revealing broken and yellow teeth, it wasn't a pleasant smile.

"Stay where you are," Craig drew his blade, holding it readily in a defensive stance, protecting his Lord.

Their guest eyed the blade in amusement but halted in his walk forward, "Earlier you swore to kill every single one of your enemies and sacrifice their bodies to any God that would help you."

"You have been watching us?" Shouted Kam, enraged and before Craig could stop him, turned and charged the stranger, dagger upraised. "Kam, no!"

The stranger moved forward and met the boy weapon-less, twisting the dagger from his arms and throwing it at Craig's feet, warning him to stay where he was. Sobbing Kam ignored the obvious warning signs and threw himself again at the warrior. A hand the size of a loaf of bread shot forward and clutched the Lord around the neck, slamming him up against the wall with brutal force. Kam cried out in pain and Craig leapt forward, sword prepared. The guest turned and drew his own blade in one movement, keeping Kam pinned against the wall, and with a clash of steel their swords were crossed.

Spinning to the side he tried to pass the warrior's defences, only to find he had shifted his body and now had his sword in his other hand, having switched Kam for the blade. The long sword easily fit in one hand, and the giant spun it around to knock his own sword from his grasp. As the warrior turned back to Kam he saw a black scar on the back of the man's neck. It was in the shape of small flame and there was a circle around it, in words.

Craig paled, he knew who this man represented, and he remained still as the warrior began to speak softly to his liege. Kam's eyes widened as he was spoken to and he nodded hurriedly. Then his face went blank, and Craig grew concerned. He shifted forward and a giant sword bearing hand rose in his direction. "Stay," ordered the man loudly, his voice bouncing off the walls.

Craig reluctantly stayed where he was, waiting to see what would happen. Suddenly the man released Kam and the boy thudded to the floor, nursing his sore throat. A loud bang, like thunder, rumbled about the room from the storm outside and the strange vanished.

Craig hurried forward as Kam slowly got to his feet, "What happened? What did he say?"

In his arms the Lord was trembling like a leaf and he was clearly in shock. "The Ashran family will rule for ten centuries," he whispered finally in awe as he straightened.

Craig looked at him worriedly, "Tell me you didn't agree to anything he said! Tell me!" Furious and scared he shook the boy harshly, "Tell me!" Kam was limp in his arms, "You never, _ever_ make a deal with a one of them!"

Finally Kamaroon blinked, and removed the elder man's arms from about him, "The House of Ashran will rule for one thousand years from the moment they take the crown."

Craig paled, "But at what cost?" Kam shook his head, unable to speak.

His expression was a mixture of wonderment, shock, and determination, but what scared Craig the most as the Lord turned to look him in the eyes, was the horror within the depths.

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"Alanna," Raku clasped her shoulders tightly, "I need you to promise me, promise me that no matter what happens, you will do as the Master commands." Purple eyes gazed up at him, noting the serious look in his green eyes, with something darker lurking behind it. "Is everything ok?" She asked of her lover.

Raku sighed, closing his eyes briefly before peering into her own with such intensity she wanted to look away. "Alanna, promise me. Please."

Alanna looked at him seriously, "Raku, it will be fine. You said so yourself. I won, now I am officially being made a Tahakén Princess." A smile crossed the young man's face, erasing years from his strong features and his entire being softened at the pride in her voice. "Yes," he pulled her into a deep hug, holding her tightly before releasing her.

"I am so proud of you," he whispered, cupping her face with a large, callused hand and his heart raced as she leant into his touch. "I love you, never, ever forget that."

Alanna leant back, smiling up at him before raising herself and kissing him gently, "I know."

"Shall we?" Alanna gestured towards the door and Raku held his arm out for her. Smiling she draped hers over his and they walked towards the door, there were human guards outside, who bowed them through and stood to attention as they walked down the hallway. The Master had guests present for this historic day, the day that Tahakén announced its first Princess and as with all celebrations; it was a chance to show off. The Master had ordered Tahakén and its inhabitants to sharpen up and meet the high standard he set.

The castle had been manually cleansed of all dust and dirt, the marble floors had been polished so much that they worked better than a mirror and the uniforms had been upgraded. The warriors were coated head to toe in the finest of armour, gleaming like deadly blades. Handsome slaves were brought in, some were nobility, stolen for their good looks, and were forced to serve. Where the guests were to dine, had been cleared and swept, jewels and gold adorning the pillars and the cutlery was gold and silver with chalices of diamond. The walls had been decorated with gems and gold and The Masters great scaled throne had been moved to the end of the hall.

Before him there was a large long table, where his Teachers, Royalty and "advisors" would sit, all with their backs facing him. In front of them were tables running down the length of the hall, this was where the guests would sit. A slave was to be stationed next to every second plate, prepared to serve and stationed at each pillar were guards. Giving light to the gathering were great jewels, hovering below the ceiling and casting light to all corners of the room. It was an impressive display of power, wealth and magic.

Alanna was adorned in a red dress, oddly enough for all his sexism, The Master was very particular as to what a woman should wear to an important gathering, either nothing or she were to promote her sex to all that were present. This is what had led the Tahakén Lady to be clad in a skin tight dress which brushed the floor and had a tight leather corset. Her lower arms were protected with vambraces in the form of red leather and known only to herself and Raku; she had snuck her combat boots beneath her dress, casting an illusion over them to get them past her inspection.

Her companion was clad head to foot in black, with silver cuffs and collar. Down his chest were silver buttons, there was silver piping on his cloak, and he wore long pants that gathered atop his combat boots.

He touched her arm as they waited to be summoned, "Remember, you are a Tahakén. No law comes before The Masters." Alanna glanced to him, and nodded sharply, conceding to his wishes.

The door's opened before them and they were bowed through, the hall falling silent as they approached all eyes were on them.

Elaborate dishes were in place along all of the tables, the concoction of smells was a little overwhelming, especially since she was able to smell better than a human. They made their way swiftly towards the table before The Master, where two seats in the centre, before him, were free. Silently he directed Alanna to his left and Raku to his right, and they both obediently sat after bowing in his direction.

The Master had hidden his features today, hiding beneath a hood and was leaning against his throne, though every being in the room was carefully avoiding looking at him. The master raised a gloved hand and instantly there was silence, in front of him multi-coloured fire formed and spread in front of him, creating a screen. Respectfully all eyes turned to face him, though some clearly feared for their lives as they did so.

"Tonight is going to memorial," began The Master, his voice sending chills down many spines, "tonight we celebrate a Princess and heir."

Pictures began to form on the screen and some leant forward interested, for this was the tale it had taken Alanna, The Lioness, to become a Princess. The Master had designed a competition for an heir, ordering Alanna to compete, but she would have anyway. The tournament was loosely based around the "Lives of Death," tournament, of which Alanna had won eight times, but with one great prize at the end, the title of the Crown Prince/Princess of Tahakén. However, unlike the Lives of Death, this tournament spanned years, with a variety of different tasks, ranging from poetry to carpentry and archery to sewing.

To lay claim the contestants, firstly, had to be able to avert aging. The Masters of Craft were millennium old, and had spent their entire life in pursuit of their craft and to lay claim the contestant had to beat the Master's at their many craft. Each contestant got to choose which craft they would challenge, the Master either confirmed or denied each challenge proposal. For Alanna, every single one of her physical combat, stamina and magical challenges had been denied, she figured it was done for a laugh, but she had accepted The Masters wish without complaint, she wasn't stupid. Nobody disobeyed The Maser.

In the end she had settled for things like climbing, archery, swimming, diving, hunting, horse-training (Ashnidante was her final product, and he was spectacular) carving and tracking. Mostly she had avoided "girl" areas of expertise but she could sew, cook, play instruments and had an odd flare with words.

Today the Council of Anake would determine whether her claim to the throne was valid, each of the Council members was a Master of Craft, but their expertise was not limited to a single craft like the Masters of Craft. The Council had many talents, and could lay claim to any Master of Craft position within their field, but were on the council because they could claim many. These men and women were the ones who would judge her, there was a combat Member, for all forms of combat, singular, many and wars. The Member was a tactician, commander and all round expert warrior. There was a Mage Member, who was so proficient in all forms of Magic it took Alanna's breath away. There was the Host Member, who was the perfect host, she could cook, bake, exchange pleasantries, sing, play all instruments and dance.

Alanna had trained hard and learnt with a thirst fit of the dying, she loved to learn, and her imprisonment at Tahakén hadn't changed that.

Raku, for some reason had not competed in the tournament and when she asked him he had told her it was because he was already a Prince and that none would dare challenge his title. But he had seemed off when he said it but Alanna had put it down to nerves, but now as he sat next to her she couldn't help but wonder if it were more.

Shaking her head internally she turned her attention outward, in time to listen as The Master ordered each Council Member to announce their decision. One by one each member stood and backed her claim, asserting her right as Heir to Tahakén. The final two to speak rose at the same time, identifying themselves to the crowd she learnt that they were the Council Members of Magic and Combat. The woman was clearly the Mage, she wore a long black robe Alanna knew was characteristic with Mastery in Magic, and she didn't hold herself like the man next to her did. He was a warrior all right, covered in scars with muscles moving beneath his skin and she could see sheaths were blades had been, but he like everyone else, was required to leave weapons outside.

"We confirm Alanna's claim to the seat of Tahakén," here the warrior paused before glancing almost unnoticeably in her direction, "through her legendary status as a warrior."

The woman took over for him, "And from her prowess sung in tales of her power," she looked as though she would say more, however she did not.

Hesitating further she finished with, " We the Council clear Alanna as suitable candidate for the throne, does anyone dispute this claim?" There was silence in the hall and the Mage and Warrior bowed to The Master, "Master, the decision remains yours."

A pale hand gestured for them to take a seat and the two gratefully sat, but as they did so Alanna internally frowned, she couldn't have passed because she had never challenged either of those disciplines.

"We have our Princess," said The Master simply and the crowd began to cheer her, and Alanna inwardly smiled as she stood and turned to bow to The Master. Raku was nodding next to her, clapping along with everyone else, but as she turned back to him she caught a glimpse of something else behind the pride.

Slaves came forward carrying various dishes and drinks and began to serve the guests who were regaining confidence in the face of The Master's seemingly calm disposition. A number of the meats looked slightly too exotic to the majority of the guests, and Alanna watched as many of them selected what appeared to be familiar veal. Internally rolling her eyes Alanna looked to Raku who was quite happily helping himself to a selection of meat and salad.

Seeing Alanna watching him he nodded at her and gestured towards the food, almost instructionally, and when she shook her head he frowned at her and inclined his head purposely and deliberately at the food. Flicking her eyes upwards she began to help herself to some of the meat as the celebration continued around them. Dancers moved between serving slaves and some performers were throwing balls of flame into the air and creating shapes with them. Others were playing a variety of instruments and one was preforming flips, rolls and jumps as though they were weightless. There were animal trainers showing their charges off and there were mages creating images and shapes from their magic.

Several hours later a hush fell on the crowd as The Master raised his hand slightly. "I do hope you realised that the meat that looks like veal is, in fact, human flesh." There was a moment for The Masters words to sink in and there were cries of horror, pale faces and some retching. The Master chuckled softly in amusement, it wasn't a pleasant sound. Those who were being sick were thrown from the room and the slaves came in to clean up. Alanna remembered her own experience with the meat and felt slightly sympathetic for them, but not really. Energy was necessary in her training, and the only source of protein she had was in the form of human flesh, after staying away from it, she reluctantly agreed that it was necessary to her diet, she needed the energy otherwise… and the taste wasn't all that bad, it was rather enjoyable and she had certainly eaten worse. It was her mentality that felt repulsed at the idea, but now she had changed and human flesh was just another meat.

The tables were cleared by some Mages and the crowd was watching avidly as a slave walked towards the Master, holding a purple cushion with a small black veil on it.

The Master stood and Alanna and Raku slid from their seats, Raku moving to stand to the side and Alanna to wait before the throne.

She didn't look into his face as she stood before the chair, but felt his words resound throughout the hall.

"Alanna, you are the reigning champion for the Lives of Death Tournament, hold a Black Robe in Magic and can compete with any Shang warrior." Remaining silent Alanna listened as The Master began to list all of her achievements and couldn't help a slight swelling inside her, of pride and accomplishment.

Her attention was diverted to The Master when he addressed her, "Now, just one last question. What is an heir?"

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**Authors Note:** Does anyone want to hear from me? So, I half thought abandoning this fic, or just finishing it in one or two chapters (maybe more) but then I realised I just have to get back into it. I am going to apologise in advance for the time jumps/skips that may (and probably will occur) in the next chapters when I get bored. Thanks for the reviews

** Miss Goldenlake:** Don't hate me, but you will see what she can do very, very soon. I'm not actually sure what the people in Tortall are doing right now, I have a slight idea so I might include what they are doing later….

** Lollypops**: I understand your concern, but she will eventually return to Tortall.

**Schubeyy: **Lol, I still am having trouble getting inspiration to write, but thanks. I hope this chapter is worth the wait…the next one won't be….. ( Sorry….) Hm, Alanna and…. Raku?

** Kaari8:** Of course, you're welcome.

And, I think I will have a LOT more reviews in the next chapter...


	31. A Coronation of Sorts

Chapter Twenty Nine

_A coronation…of sorts…_

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The island rose calmly from between rolling waves and the slender figure aboard the ship ordered a halt. Rigging creaked, and sails snapped as the crew hastened to obey, their feet pounding along the deck as they gradually brought he ship to a halt. The Captain came alongside the figure and glanced down to their hood, "Will you be okay making the journey by yourself?" He asked before staring at the unimposing island in the distance.

The figure straightened and turned its head slightly to address him, keeping their eyes on the island. "Raise the flag and I will be."

The Captain clasped his fist to his heart before turning and giving an order for the flag to be raised and for the cannons to be sounded. Moments later three cannon balls were fired into the water, their shot ringing across the waves and up the beach. A giant flag bearing the symbol of Tahakén, the flame surrounded by a circle of words, was snapping in the wind.

There was a moment of eerie calm, before the wind stilled and the sailors felt the hair on the back of their necks rise. "Prepare me a boat," ordered the figure, a streak of crimson hair escaping the shadow of the hood as they turned to face the Captain.

The Captain did as he was ordered, and within minutes the figure was seated aboard a row boat, the oars propelling themselves forward.

The island came steadily closer and through the giant waves, rocks erupted from the surf, a peril to any trying to approach the island. The figure leant over to the water and touched the surface and the water beneath the boat rose, carrying it safely over the rocks, even as the waves crashed mercilessly upon them.

The sand was as black as the night and cliff's, that immediately ceased the thought of navigation, surrounded the small cove. Lush green grass came down onto the sand, stretching forward before the figure, as a soft wind pressed at their back, shaping their cloak around their body, revealing that of a woman. Ahead she could see where the grass ended, slopping harshly towards the sky, flanked by even more cliffs. Erupting out of these cliffs stood a wall, with towers situated at even spaces which glared down at her as she walked the bottleneck rise towards the gap. Even though they were unmanned, she shivered, for the lack of people made it all the spookier.

As she approached the exit, the walls remained at the same height, following her towards the gates, offering complete coverage of the beach for any commander at the wall. The portcullis was open and she hesitated before stepping beneath them and out into the area beyond. Making her way past the entrance she walked for a few moments before turning and glancing back at the line of defence. Curling around the beach the first layer of cliffs held area's for cannons and other machines, and there were giant goblets which she assumed would be filled with fire in the event of an attack.

The walls were built from the inside of the cliffs, with crenulations in even spaces where archers could be positioned and small holes in the stone for arrows. The first tower rose impressively from the wall and came out of the stone and over the earth, and the machicoulation's would allow stones or even fire to be poured upon any attackers beneath the wall.

The defences continued in a smooth arch up towards the gate, where the towers there were even more fortified and impressive. Archers could be stationed everywhere from the cliffs to the gates, and the natural (or not) incline up towards the entry forced any attacking troops into a group. Taking the gates would be almost impossible without heavy casualties, as the archers had the height advantage, the protection advantage, and the area to move, they were also on a flat surface.

Continuing onward she came across a great forest, where fog clung ominously to the trees and obscured the paths. However one of the paths was oddly clear of fog and she confidently took it, following it as it wound over other pathways and branched off into other directions. Unable to shake the feeling she was being watched, she was very glad to be rid of the forest and exit out onto a plain.

Here there was evidence of farming, from the cobblestone paths that branched off the main road, to the stacks of hay that was piled onto carts and there were small quaint huts scattered in a few areas. There were ditches in the land, where water pooled gently, awaiting use. There was also several mound of rock, jutting from the otherwise flat surface, and there looked to be primitive towers on them. Calling to her Gift she shifted and became a bird and took to the skies, soaring over the land. Immediately she felt a heavy pressure descend upon her, and realising that her Gift was steadily being smothered she moved faster, forcing more of her Magic to her skin in an attempt to hold off the force.

After the plains there were rows upon rows of orchards, but separating the two industries was a second wall, with catapults stationary in the sun, and spears with needle points shafting down from the walls. Looking at them she winced, anyone approaching the walls would be impaled and anyone trying to climb them would have their hands and feet pierced with lethal and painful poison.

After the orchid there was a gorge, spanning several hundred meters across and the pillar holding the bridge dispersed into mist which clung to the air, hiding the depth of the canyon. She could hear the rushing of water clashing over rocks and assumed a river was hidden beneath the fog. The bridge was built from glossy black stone, which was perfectly flat and moulded, clearly by magic. It was wide enough to fit three carriages and as she landed softly on the cobblestone path before it as her Gift faltered beneath the unbearable pressure, her eyes widened in awe.

Mist, which had shrouded the great castle, withdrew, exposing the masterpiece to her eyes. Emerging from the mountain a city of ink coloured stone, gleaming in the sun, the city was magnificent. Twelve towers glared across the river at her, stretching into the heavens and there were etchings along the top of each tower, the outline of some sort of creature.

Taking a deep breath she continued forward, and as soon as her foot touched the black stone beneath her, there was an echo and she could almost see it racing forward ahead of her. Abruptly there was the smooth sound of steel sliding against steel and she stiffened in place, Magic flooding to her fingertips.

Two great statues, crafted from the same stone as the bridge and city had crossed their spears in front of her and there was a series of clangs as the pairs of spearmen crossed blades up the length of the bridge. Gulping she approached and they straightened, standing to attention, their heads in the sky above her. Behind each spearman stood a swordsman, with hands resting on swords that were as long as she was tall. Bows and a quiver full of arrows were equip by stone archers, with arrows as long as her arm. The final warrior in the set was a giant welding an axe, the axe head as big as her torso.

Approaching the gate she shivered as the first portcullis rose on its own, and the blades in the walls slowly withdrew into the stone, creating slight cracks revealing where they lay dormant. Clearing her throat she continued forward and the second portcullis rose, the chain rattling as the weight was lifted.

Exiting out into the sunshine she blinked, there was a second wall, this time lacking the towers, but it had even more arrow slips and areas for archers. A second set of portcullis' rose for her and she slipped beneath them and out into the outer city. Here there were houses, streets, and civilian quarters, even pens for livestock.

Her legs were burning by the time she reached the next wall, here six towers glared down at her, as the entire territory of the castle steadily closed in, as she walked further into the mountain. As with the last wall, the portcullises were raised and she passed beneath them easily, though on the stone beneath her, she could see cracks, almost as though the floor could move.

Here in the inner bailey was where the warrior's quarters were, as well as the stables, archery range, and the training rings. There were also giant storehouses, built from stone, like the rest of the buildings; she could see images of food, weapons, and livestock on some of the doors. A well was in the middle and there were trees casting shadows across the grass.

The area was ominously void of life, of any kind, and as she had on her entire journey from the beach, she couldn't help but feel she was being watched. Fortifying herself she continued onward, approaching a third wall, though this one had three towers watching her and she hesitated beneath the open portcullises, because only now did she realise this entire island was designed to be a trap.

The beach defences had been positioned to drive any enemy beneath the walls, into small spaces where several warriors could hold the entrance from an army. The same had been done for the castle and its surrounding grounds, steadily the space had been decreasing from the first wall with twelve towers, to the second with six and now the third and final wall with three. The forest was cloaked in mist and surely had various defences inside, especially with the advantage of many trails and the plains would not be as innocent as they looked. Then there was the bridge, who knew how far below the river lay and those statues looked a bit to lifelike to be sculptures.

A noise, to her rear startled her and she took several steps back, hand going to the blade at her side as her head darted side to side. The rattling of chain as it was unwound reached her, moments before the sound of a portcullis slamming into the ground did. A second one closed and she swallowed, understanding that the first wall shut behind her. Another two gates closed and she moved even closer to the open gates before her, and taking a deep breath, walked underneath the first one, hand tightening on her sword.

She gave a yelp, after she had walked halfway beneath the wall, as the first portcullis released and crashed behind her and she ran to it, helpless.

Turning she grasped her sword even tighter and waited. Nothing happened. Cautiously she approached the last portcullis and hesitantly edged towards it before leaping beneath it and out the other side. The grinding of the chain was loud up this close and she launched herself forward as the final portcullis rammed down.

Growling she approached the castle, finally getting a good look at it and paused, it was majestic and forbidding. The towers loomed above her, flying black flags and the castle walls looked reassuringly solid for any defender. The black stone that crafted the bridge and walls also contributed to the castle, with the flat and gleaming blocks of stone positioned perfectly along the entire structure. Slanting rooms offered figurines at each corner, some sort of winged beast, and spires grasped at the sky. Balconies bowed beneath arched windows and doors and a series of stairs led towards two great big doors, with giant statues of cats on either side.

The entire building was… majestic… there was no other word as fitting to describe it. Magnificent in the sunlight, with perfect proportions of beauty, grace, elegance, and finesse, the castle was designed to impress. Feeling slightly anxious at the thought of entering a building created to defend its people but oppose its enemies, she made her way up the steps, inwardly marvelling, though still apprehensive, at the building. Nothing she had ever seen could have prepared her for this; it was truly a magical piece of architecture.

The two doors rolled open on oiled hinges and she made her way inside before her jaw hit the ground.

A great staircase was before her in the same black marble, crimson carpet was placed up the centre with gold banisters on either side, and it branched off a story above her, vanishing into other corridors. Glancing to her right hand left she could see the gold railing arching up into the floor of the next floor, and there were carvings in the marble pillars that held the entire up building. On each side, at the foot of the staircase, stood a statue, this time in marble as white as the castle was black. A great crystal chandelier angled from the roof, it's clear colour somehow lighting the black room.

Paintings were depicted on the walls and large tapestries covered entire sections of the wall. Solid oak doors were spaced at even positions along the sides and she hesitated, wondering which way to go. A light breeze pressed at her back and one of the doors, beyond a statue, slowly swung open.

Hesitantly she made her way towards it and the entrance doors shut with a resounding thud. Clenching her jaw she straightened and followed the open doors through the castle, each door opening for her and then closing when she had walked through.

Eventually she appeared at the back of the castle, where the mountain ridges formed the defences and there was a small black gate, set in the wall, which slowly creaked open for her.

Sighing at the further delay she walked through and out into the shadow of the guards of the mountain. She followed small dirt and stone path, which wound its way between trees and scrubs, moving with the land, not across it like many others. Eventually she came out into a clearing, where the mountain loomed above her ominously, its shadow encouraging her to curl into herself, to run away, to just give in, to give up, to surrender.

Shaking herself she glared up at the mountain and steeling herself, for her punishment was not worth fleeing for, and she had come all this way, and walked forward. Water crashing against rocks indicated a waterfall and stream and she summarised that the mountain was the source of water for the well in the castle.

The path lead her forward, to a staircase cast in black stone and she wearily began her ascent, and so unaware of her surroundings she never noticed the presence appear at the top of the stairs.

They coughed politely and she withdrew her sword, pointing it at the young girl, who held her hands up in a peaceful gesture.

"Come with me," the girl ordered softly, before turning and walking into the great archway that merged from the side of the mountain.

Lowering the sword slightly, but not sheathing it, she followed the girl into the crevice, taking note of her guide.

Long blonde hair fell in waves down her back, and she wore a pristine toga and her visible skin bore the tell-tail signs of torture, though it wasn't recent. Averagely muscled for a woman, she moved confidently into the belly of the mountain, down, deeper into its heart as torches braced in the wall gave them light.

A faint smell began to reach her and she inhaled before sharply exhaling as the scent clung to her tongue. Blood, and large amounts of it was ahead. Eventually they entered through a doorway and the girl walked across the smooth floor as shadows of fire from the walls were cast on the marble.

Large pillars held the ceiling and there were aqueducts of fire surrounding the rectangular room. At the end of the room, glowing in the darkness against a wall of fire was a pure white altar, with small grooves in it allowing blood to flow down those paths. It seemed many people had already been sacrificed on that alter, for between the doorway and the alter there was a pool of crimson blood, not the dirty, muddish red of dried blood, but the crisp and vibrant red of fresh blood. A single pathway led the way across the pool, like a small bridge without rails and she hesitated before marching across it.

The path continued around the alter before flattening out and there were steps and a throne. The girl was already there, speaking softly to the cloaked figure upon the throne.

Stepping past the fire she stared up at the figure, blade drawn and held in her trembling hand. There wasn't much known about the Tahakén Princess, only that she hadn't been seen or heard of in centuries and those who knew her had either been killed, died or refused to talk about her in any personal capacity, focusing only on her skill and prowess. So Cassandra was curious to meet the woman who was second only to The Master and whose name was no longer known, having become a legend going by the name of Hunter having killed her lover.

"Put your weapon away," came a clear and cold voice, the order unmistakable and even though she was terrified, she slowly slid her blade into its sheath.

"I'm-" she was interrupted.

"I know who you are, Cassandra, Lady of Tahakén. I have known since the moment you entered my waters."

The figure rose in a fluid movement from the throne, and began to descend the steps, "The question is, what you are doing _here_."

Gulping, Cassandra bowed, low and deep before straightening and removing her hood. Firelight caught and emphasised the red of her hair and the dark marble highlighted the violet streaks in it.

"Princess," she hastened onwards as a growl erupted from the tall figure standing opposite her, "You are to be summ-"

"Summoned," snarled the figure, suddenly appearing in front of her, "Summoned!"

Cassandra stumbled away, fair skin turning pale and gold eyes widening in fear. She held her hands in front of her in a gesture of peace, hoping the Princess wouldn't kill her, she didn't dare reach for a weapon, knowing she was outmatched.

"The Master has a mission for you!" She said quickly, watching as the Princess slowly withdrew back into herself, seeming to have contained her rage.

"Here," Cassandra quickly held out a piece of parchment to the Princess, who summoned it to her with a flick of her fingers.

She opened it and began to read, her face hidden beneath a hood, "Leave," she instructed after a moment and continued to read.

Cassandra took a deep breath of relief and turned and began to take measure steps back across the room, back stiff awaiting a blow to end it all.

It never came and as she reached the exit of the mountain she broke into a run, fleeing down the pathway and heading for the castle, where she drew to an abrupt halt. Before when she had passed through, the place had been silent, still, waiting, now though it was vibrant with life. People scurried here and there about their business and watched her curiously, though made no move to communicate with her.

A small boy with brown curly hair ran up to her, bowing and then spoke, "If you'll come with me, Miss."

Cassandra eyed the boy and entered his mind, making sure she wouldn't be lead to a trap. Finding nothing but innocence in his mind, and an order to bring her to the Captain for escorting from them the premises, she exited his mind and followed him.

He lead her through the castle and out into the courtyard, where there was a pair of riders and a horse waiting for her. The boy pointed in their direction and scampered away as she made her way to the horsemen. There was a giant of a man, riding a large dun horse, sitting easily in the saddle and watching her approach. He had short shaggy black hair and tanned skin, with a body that portrayed his heavy lifting and exercise and was impeccably dressed in a dark over tunic with a white long sleeve shirt beneath it.

The brown horse next to him was boredly swatting flies, head lowered and eyes half closed. She internally snorted at the mount but accepted that she needed to get out of here as fast as possible and flying wasn't an option, the force on her Gift was immense and she doubted she could even light a candle, let alone fly to the ship and back.

Glancing to the other mount she halted, it blended perfectly with the wall, castle and mountains around it, as black as night and stood proudly in the sun, its ears flicking in every direction, its black eyes swivelling. Muscular yet elegant, with a thick and long mane and tail, the horse was the epitome of perfection.

Carrying onward Cassandra appraised the rider, the woman had long flowing red hair, and golden skin, and she sat easily in the saddle, wondering if she could fight her and take the horse as spoils. As though hearing her thoughts, the riders head turned and she was met with fierce purple eyes.

Feeling a challenge she matched the amethyst eyes stare for stare as she mounted the brown horse, eyes roving across her body, searching for any weakness that could be exploited. From what she could see she didn't appear to have any obvious weapons, but small daggers could be hidden beneath the flowing coal cloak she wore.

The giant cleared his throat, "Mi'Lady, we will escort you to the beach."

Cassandra nodded to him and waited for him to wheel his horse around and walk towards the gates. The red-head on the black horse nudged him forward and the stallion readily obeyed, ears pricked and neck arched as he fell into step next to the dun. The dun's ears flew back in warning and the black snorted in his direction before side-stepping even closer to the giant.

The female rider spoke to him softly and the black snorted once more but obediently gave the dun some space. Nudging her brown forward she came up next to the dun, not willing to risk facing the stallion, and its unknown rider, just yet.

They passed beneath the first wall easily, the guards on the walls clasping their fists to their hearts and nodding in their direction, the giant replied in kind.

The civilian portion of the castle was alive and vibrant, with people and animals moving up and down the roads and hawkers were selling wares in a symphony of colour.

After a few minutes of walking the streets she spoke, "What kind of stone is the castle made of?"

The giant glanced to his companion before answering, "Duranite, it is the strongest and hardest substance in the world. Only found on this island and comes from that mountain." He tilted his head behind him to the mountain guarding the castle, "It is believed to have come from the heart of the mountain itself and is harder and more resilient than diamond."

Cassandra nodded, and then looking to draw the woman into the conversation and learn more about her, "So what do you do?"

Amethyst eyes turned to appraise her before guiding the black around a corner, "I'm an artist," she said calmly, her voice soft and feminine on the air.

Cassandra scoffed internally, "Oh, what medium do you use?"

"I enjoy music," the red-head replied, "I find it can speak without words and tell a story to any who can open their ears enough to listen."

The woman fell silent and Cassandra turned her attention from the boring red-head to the giant man, "And you?"

"I am a Training Master," spoke the giant, flexing his biceps impressively while flashing a grin. "Names Kenneth, but you can just call me Ken."

Slightly interested, for if this man trained the warriors he must be good, but he would also have a weakness, she turned to him, "What kind of training do you take care of?"

Ken smiled and turned to her enthusiastically, "I teach mainly mounted skills, but I'm a fair hand with an axe if you're game. Maybe you can come and visit and stay a while, I'll show you everything."

Cassandra nodded, smiling along with him, though internally scoffed at the idiocy of the man, he was eating out of her hand. "Am I allowed to do that?" She asked, with just the right amount of innocence and eye fluttering. "Yeah!" Said Ken happily, "The boss is pretty cool, so long as you obey a few rules. And as Captain I get a few extra benefits," he said, winking in her direction.

Cassandra looked him over again, thinking that this could work, if she managed to break into a Tahakén Princess' castle and bring in backup, well… the world would be hers.

"How many people have you trained?"

The horses' hooves cast sharp sounds as they clattered across the bridge, moving into a trot as they kept to the left side.

"A lot," smiled Ken, "I train roughly a hundred each year, for each class, but I get the weekend's off."

Cassandra decided to push further, to see what information she could glean from the oblivious warrior, " What class are you?"

Ken swelled to an even greater size, "Five, of course," he said flashing her a great, proud smile.

"That's impressive," she said softly to him, and she wasn't even lying. For the people of Tahakén their standards of everything fit into six classes. The Master and the Princess were level six, to be considered a level five was almost as rare, with four and three being the average a Tahakén could get. Level one and two were considered the norm for all other nations, and as such the class was scorned, for they were weaklings and mediocre. For Ken to be a level five he needed to be excellent at what he did, and for the Princess to have him training her forces…. He was a very influential man.

Black hair shook as Ken nodded, "I've been training a while."

"For how long? Cassandra asked, thinking she could almost determine the exact number of the Princess' forces if he told her how long he had been training, "You don't seem that old." She reached out and touched his muscular arm.

Ken grinned, "Thanks," he said brightly, "I have been training for about 27 years this Summer."

Cassandra quickly did some calculations in her head, one hundred a year times twenty seven years meant at least 3000 master horsemen under the Princess' command.

The red-head, who had been silent for the ride, spoke, "There are about one-hundred- thousand people here, with about six percent of them in service."

Inwardly Cassandra scoffed, the Princess was clearly arrogant and confident in her position to only have that few people to defend her territory. Even she, as a Tahakén Lady, had the loyalty of triple that and could easily get more.

The red head turned away and, as they exited the orchids, urged the stallion into a run and he gleefully shot forward, hooves pounding into the grass. Ken gave a yell and nudged his dun faster and surprisingly Cassandra's horse lifted her head and gave a whinny before bursting forward into a gallop.

Feeling the wind in her hair she couldn't help but laugh, this island was perfect, and soon it would be hers. All she needed to do was keep the naive Kenneth talking to her and she would have all the islands secrets and would be able to conquer it in no time. Ahead of her the red-head had pulled up to gallop next to Kenneth and she could seem them exchanging words, and for a moment she thought that she had been caught, but when she heard them laughing she relaxed.

Reaching out with her Gift she smiled, the further away from the Castle the pressure on her Magic lessoned, soon she would be able to strike.

It was when she had been escorted down to the beach, and all three riders dismounted that she struck. First she knocked Ken out, more afraid of his abilities than the red-head woman's. Then as she took a step forward to confront her, she sent her Magic at her, propelling her backwards over the sand. Figures appeared on the cliff top and she sent her Gift up in a shield before taking the black stallion by the reins, intelligent eyes watched her. "You're coming with me, I am your new Mistress now."

The stallion snorted but followed her as she walked down the beach and into the surf. Concentrating on her Magic she lifted him in the air and lowered him into the boat and tied him down, before clambering in and using her Gift to row them forward. Then she lifted the rowboat clear of the rocks and floated it along the waves, heading for the ship. The wind was picking up, lashing at her hair and she growled as it blew sea spray into her face. Thunder rumbled and the skies began to turn black, the blue ocean turning grey and furious and it began to rain.

The hair rose on the back of her neck and she mad the boat move faster, the stallion seemed interested in his surroundings and made no move to leave the boat as it flew through the air, seemingly content to be tied to the wood.

Reaching the vessel she lifted the boat higher and onto the deck, leading the horse onto the ship. The Captain came rushing over, "We need ta leave!" He roared, barely audible over the wind and thunder.

Lightning flashed and the ship reared up on the waves as they began to pound at the hull, and rain clattered down on them.

"Then get us out of here, Captain!" She ordered, turning to the horse and beginning to lead him below deck. Crew members were scurrying about, rushing to secure everything and open the sails.

Abruptly the stallion halted and turned his beautiful head towards the bow as the ship turned with the waves, now facing the island.

He whickered and she went around to his head, "It's okay, forget her. I am your Mistress now; you will never see her again."

Black eyes looked her fully in the face, as thunder blasted overhead, _Foolish human. You could have left and never returned, but you had to mess with what isn't yours. Now your life, and the lives of this vessel, will be forfeit._

Lightning lit the entire sky and froze, creating beams of power across the heavens and lighting a path to the sea. The individual drops of rain froze and turned to ice, hovering in the air for a few moments before dispersing on the wind.

The horse offered another greeting and Cassandra turned to the bow where a hooded figure stood leaning against the foremast. Her cloak whipped about her and revealed her clothing, starting at her feet she wore black knee high boots, which looked reassuringly solid but comfortable, with silver and black greaves coming up her legs. The piping around the top, where the leather softened, was silver and the cuisse coming up her upper leg were black with silver edges and etchings, matching perfectly into her clothes. Her upper body armour came down her torso in layers, each layer pressed tightly against the next with silver again emphasising the edges and designs, and her silver and black tasset came midway down her thighs and her hips were protected by matching faulds.

Layered black and silver pauldrons came across her shoulders and down part of her chest, and her armour came up her neck like a collar, though she had enough room to easily and comfortably turn and move her head. Keeping with her silver and black theme, her gauntlets matched the rest of her armour and vambraces, effectively keeping the woman's body shape hidden and perfectly protected.

"You took my horse, "A gloved hand rose and slowly pulled down her hood, the lightning in the sky highlighting the silver in her armour, and on her clothing as the waves fell silent and the wind stilled.

Cassandra took a step back, red hair and furious purple eyes met her gaze.

"You! You're the Princess?"

The Tahakén Princess strode forward, looking every bit the lethal woman she was held to be, "Yes."

She flicked her hands out to the side and there were screams as the crew was tossed overboard, some being ripped through the wood below the deck. Once in the water, gleeful waves picked them up and tossed them about before they were dragged to the oceans depths.

Cassandra took another step backwards as the stallion trotted to great his Mistress, and nuzzled her face. She stroked his nose fondly as she watched the Tahakén Lady scramble to her knees, "Forgive me!" She begged, knowing that any move on her behalf would have the legend kill her. "I did not know!"

"I figured," the Princess said, voice excessively calm, "Otherwise you would never have said half the things you did, nor would you have thought you could just walk out with my horse."

Purple eyes looked at her in disgust, "Though, just to brag and be… what was it? Arrogant and over confident?"

The stallion snorted and tossed his head, as though the idea was blasphemy.

"I have six thousand troops in service, which make up one legion. The other two legions are on a rotation every second year. In a time of war I can summon all eighteen thousand of them within an hour. What you failed to realise is that this is my home! It is my creation and only the best is permitted."

The Princess came to stand before her, "Of the 100 thousand residents, all of the men and woman have basic combat training, at least to a level two and each and every single person who calls himself or herself a member of my forces is a level five in combat."

Cassandra placed her forehead on the deck of the ship, praying that pure submission would keep her alive.

"If,- _if_- you could find this place, get past the "natural" defences and then defeat my advance guard before the bridge, you would then be faced with the crossing. And while you slept, my stealth troops would sneak up from the canyon and assassinate some of you before slipping back beneath the mist. Should you then pass every single one of my walls and try to siege the castle….. You would never get into the mountain! Not to mention the Magical precautions I have taken."

There were a few moments of silence and Cassandra glanced up cautiously, thinking the Princess had gone and met amethyst eyes glaring at her, "You would be a fool to even consider taking this place as yours. It. Is. MINE!"

A gloved hand pointed to her, purple magic flew at her, striking her between the eyes, and she knew no more.

Purple fire cloaked the vessel as the Princess' hand formed a fist, and when she suddenly opened it, the ship was torn apart in a mass of wood, rope, and sail.

The skies slowly turned back to blue and the ocean calmed its churning, before stilling in the sunset. With purple at their feet the Princess and her horse walked across the waves and up the beach.

_Well, that was boring. I didn't even get to trample anyone._

"Peace, Dante," The Princess said turning to the stallion, as they walked up the sand, "_You'll get your chance soon enough_."

_Are we going to war?_ Asked the stallion turning eager eyes on the woman.

"_Yes_."

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

_The Master stood and Alanna and Raku slid from their seats, Raku moving to stand to the side and Alanna to wait before the throne._

_She didn't look into his face as she stood before the chair, but felt his words resound throughout the hall._

_"Alanna, you are the reigning champion for the Lives of Death Tournament, hold a Black Robe in Magic and can compete with any Shang warrior." Remaining silent Alanna listened as The Master began to list all of her achievements and couldn't help a slight swelling inside her, of pride and accomplishment._

_Her attention was diverted to The Master when he addressed her, "Now, just one last question. What is an heir?"_

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

As The Master's words resonated within her mind she froze, her eyes jerking to face him. He watched her calmly, eyes gleaming and Alanna swallowed but obediently answered. "An heir is the person next in succession. They will take the throne or title when the ruler dies or abdicates."

The Master nodded slowly, "Ah yes, but, pray tell, how many are there?"

Alanna's jaw clenched and she glanced over to Raku who was watching her, face impassive but green eyes filled with sorrow, eventually she answered. "One," she whispered brokenly, so softly even The Master strained to hear her.

"Exactly, there can be only one," he announced to the crowd before turning back to the shocked Princess. "Kill him," he commanded, in a voice like silk, pointing to Raku.

Alanna heard the words from a distance, kill him, kill him, kill him, _kill him_. Frozen she could only stare blankly ahead as the command rocked her world, her life.

She could hear the crowd buzzing at the news and anticipation filled the room as Raku moved forward, the tables and benches cleared to form a duelling space. The guests fell back against the walls, eagerly jostling for a position near the front. "Kill her," The Master commanded of her lover and she heard Raku move to the end of the hall.

Slowly she turned to face him and met his eyes across the distance, and with his eyes locked on hers he bowed low, a gesture of respect. She shook her head slightly as she watched him, she could feel her mind internally screaming at what was about to take place.

The Master had returned to his throne and was watching them intently, waiting for them to obey, to begin the duel of the century, millennium even.

"Alanna," Raku said softly, eyeing her intently, waiting for her to keep to her promise.

Alanna clenched her jaw and shook her head harder, a short sharp movement and the audience could see it. They began to murmur, eyes flicking from the still bowed Raku, to Alanna and to The Master.

"Kill your lover," The Master's voice turned to ice, "that is an order." Gasps were heard from the crowd, others verbalising their disbelief.

"No," Alanna said sharply and aware of the consequences of putting her back towards her sovereign, she turned to face him, glaring defiantly up at him. The air turned cold, "Are you certain?"

Alanna remained silent, glaring at the God who sat upon the throne.

"Very well, I shall kill you both."

"Alanna," Raku's voice changed and she reflectively turned, it was the voice he used when they were alone, when he gazed into her eyes and told her he loved her, "Please."

A single tear fell from her eye and slowly she bent forward, into a bow and Raku rose, "_Be the Hunter of my Heart,_" he informed her softly, within her mind before withdrawing completely.

Taking a deep breath Alanna closed her eyes, she paused a moment, before exhaling and opening her eyes, bringing her arm forward and a wall of purple shot out from her. Raku wasn't waiting, he had already pulled the air about him and had moved to another position in the hall, forcing Alanna to spin around and catch the pulse of magic that flew at her.

Casting an illusion behind her she began to cool the air, moulding the forming ice into shafts, while sending balls of fire at Raku. Raku dodged the fireballs, caught them with his own gift in mid-air or cast a shield to protect him. Around him a wind stirred and lashed about him in a whip of air as he sent it towards Alanna. Dropping to one knee she flicked her wrist and the ice spears shot forward at the same time a rumble echoed within the marble stone. The whip of wind changed direction and caught the shafts of ice, emerald glowing along the outside of each edge before the blades bound themselves to the whip.

Growling Alanna spun around; lashing out with her leg and sending a horizontal sphere of air towards the whip, as she landed upright she slammed her foot down onto the marble. The whip and air collided and fell apart and Raku pointed at her, and boomed a word. Alanna winced as thunder with no sound exploded around her, jarring her bones and it hurt, even with her training.

A ripple flooded the marble and then the area beneath her turned to liquid and she fell into the floor, bringing her hands to her sides as water began to flood over her she leapt from the water, flicking her Gift at the marble pillars. A giant hand leapt up from behind her, intending to crush her, but she leapt out of the way, changing into a cat as she flew through the air.

Cracking and groaning the pillars chipped and pieces fell, revealing warriors of marble as they stalked towards Raku. Raku's eyes widened as the giants emerged from the pillars, but not in fear, more in awe as to what she had done. Emerald fire sparked in his palms and he threw bold after bolt at the figures, moving around as they charged him. One coated with emerald fire turned on its fellows and began to hack at them, Alanna was standing opposite him when he blasted the pillar warriors to pieces and threw his Gift at her. Amethyst met emerald in the centre of the hall, battling it out as the two lovers threw their entire Gifts at each other, trying to force the other to submit.

Lightening was crackling around where their Magic's collided and a giant ball slowly formed, brimming with pure energy. Gritting their teeth the two mages forced more of their gifts against each other, their reserves faltering as even more pure magic left their bodies.

Their full Gift's were battling it out in the centre of the hall, each trying to force the other into submission and connected to emerald and amethyst fire, Alanna and Raku stared each other down, sweat dripping down their cheeks.

Abruptly she ran forward, charging through her own purple haze and erupted through the ball of power. Amethyst cloaking her she ran directing into emerald power, the ball of Magic exploding out behind her. The crowds, who had been so eager for the bloodshed, cried out as the power slammed into them, blasting them back against the wall and shattering the bones of those who were closest to the globe and peeling their skin and flesh from their bodies. Raku's eyes widened in surprise before he responded by throwing himself into the air, rising above the main waves of power. The ends of the wave still caught him, and he was thrown back across the room, sliding across the marble and slamming against one of the pillars.

Slowly he rose to his feet, the shards of marble crunching beneath his boots, green eyes on his lover.

Growling Alanna threw herself at Raku, halting before she reached him and spinning around, lashing out with her foot. A strong arm met her attack and she continued on with her spin, launching herself above her lover and kicking at his head. Raku ducked and rolled, keeping his front to her as she landed and had to spin around to keep her eyes on him. His arm shot forward and she swiftly brought hers up to block, and then curled her forearm around his, dragging it down as she brought her opposite knee up to block a kick to her side.

Choosing to retain her balance when facing a Master of Combat, she released her lovers arm and spun around, dropping to the ground in an attempt to kick Raku's legs out from under him. He jumped up and she flipped herself back onto her feet, moving to the side to dodge a controlled blow that would have slammed into her ribs. Slipping on the shrapnel beneath her, her balance was lost and as she sought to right herself Raku struck, his body tilting and his leg rising in an arch, snapping his foot towards her side.

The force of the blow sent her reeling, and she knew from the area of impact, and the sharp pain, that he had tried to smash through her ribs and shatter her liver.

Gasping she leapt to her feet, having been trained to take the force and pain and immediately went on the offensive, watching her lover intently, waiting for a moment when he would falter. They moved back and forwards across the floor, like a dance, she would strike as Raku would block, then their roles would be reversed. However she was taking heavy blows to her arm as she had instinctively curled up to protect her injured side, knowing she wouldn't be able to take another hit like the one she had taken.

It was as Raku took a step forward to land a furious kick to her diaphragm that as she fell she latched onto his leg, dragging him off balance as she fell back.

Hitting the marble with a thud, she ignored the way her lungs screamed for air as she was winded, and wrapped her legs around Raku's, pulling fiercely on his ankle, stretching his tendons to breaking point. He gave a growl of fury and pain as his tendon was snapped in two. His left leg jerked forward to slam into her wounded right side and she gave a groan as her ribs snapped, rolling away from her lover. She rose to her feet, and watched Raku slowly clambered upright, his right leg hanging limp.

Taking a moment to appraise herself, taking in her broken ribs, punctured and bruised liver and the fracture lines up her right arm. Breathing deeply, forcing her body back into its training and watched as Raku did the same and it was then that Alanna saw a way to end the duel. The pillars, from where the warriors had pulled themselves from the marble, were jagged and sharp, like teeth. There was one large shaft, sticking out at an angle just shy of 45 degrees, the point gleaming in the light.

Internally calculating the distance she ran at Raku, and instead of slowing, as she normally would, she sped up as she got closer. Raku blinked in surprise, wondering at the move, for he would shift his body forward and send her flying over his back, using her momentum to increase his power.

Sliding slightly to his left, she spun to her right as her momentum carried her forward and her right leg twisted and shot towards Raku's head. His eyes widened as he tried to bring his arms up, for they had been held loosely, prepared to grab her and flip her over his shoulder, but he wasn't quite fast enough and Alanna's momentum gave even more strength to her blow. Her shin slammed into his neck, sending him stumbling backwards, just like she had planned.

Sliding to a stop and settling herself she took a step forward, bringing her foot up in time to watch as Raku twisted to face her. Her heel collided with his chest and the force send him back the remaining distance and she followed up, her side burning as she leapt into the air, knee snapping forward and sending the same leg towards his head forcing his back onto the shaft. His eyes widened as she landed and understood what she had done, through the pain and shock on his face, she could see the pride within his eyes.

Alanna waited a moment before rushing forward to him, intending to save him, regardless of her orders.

"Finish him!" Came The Master's order and as she held her lovers face she gave a heaving sob, which all but Raku assumed was of pain from her injury. Raku gave a gasp of pain and his chest rumbled as blood began to well in his mouth and he coughed, "_I am proud of you, 'Lanna."_ Glancing up she stared into his emerald eyes and as his body sagged on the shaft she was taken from her mind and into his own.

Instead of the castle she was used to, they were standing on a cliff, with waves rushing up the side and shooting joyously into the sky. The grass was lush and green and as she glanced around her she saw a trail leading to a small cottage in the distance. Turning back to the sea she saw her lover standing on the edge of the cliff, as whole and as perfect as she always imagined him. Scars were erased from his skin and his eyes had lost their haunted and tormented tone. Clad simply in an emerald tunic and brown breeches, with soft looking leather boots he stood watching the ocean, tendrils of wind tousling his hair.

"_Raku_," she spoke softly and he turned to face her, a smile lightly his face and making him appear Godly in his beauty.

He held out his arms and she walked to him, nuzzling into his chest as his arms wound around her, his breath on her hair.

"_I have never been more proud of you, Kitten,"_ Raku rumbled as the dying sun cast highlights through his hair.

"_Raku_," she began but was halted by her lover as he leant back, arms around her waist. "_Alanna, you are the Hunter of my Heart. My death will not change that_."

Alanna felt something fuzzy within her throat and cleared it harshly, but the feeling didn't go away as her lover stepped back.

"_Don't change for anyone, Princess_," Raku bowed low to her, the respect shown to someone with a higher rank, not that of an equal.

"_Raku_," this time she halted, her throat too tight to even speak as Raku took her hand, kissed it and turned and walked into the sunlight, following it from the cliff edge. Gold enveloped him and he vanished from sight as the sun's rays began to withdraw, casting shadows from in front of the cottage which were slowly approaching.

And she stood alone, on the cliff top facing the sea, as the sun finally set, leaving her in darkness.

**Author's Note:**

So… I might have to change my address now… Sorry, it had to be done. We shall miss our beloved Raku… Also, Royal Lady, I apologise for killing your character: D I hope this chapter made sense and thanks for the reviews guys.

**Raine Daggers:** I don't think I will, just yet. Thanks :D

** CoTB:** ;) Thanks

** Fang:** As always, thanks for the support. And also, your PM with characters made me get my arse into gear and finish this chapter, so it's for you. :D

** Danaye:** I'm glad getting the email makes you happy. They certainly make me happy. On that note I am soooo tired of waiting for a chapter from one of the HP ones…..

Enjoy,

Regards CDL

EDIT: Look how long it is! :D


	32. Seaborn

Chapter Thirty

_Seaborn_

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The skies slowly turned back to blue and the ocean calmed its churning, before stilling in the sunset. With purple at their feet the Princess and her horse walked across the waves and up the beach.

_Well, that was boring. I didn't even get to trample anyone._

"Peace, Dante," The Princess said turning to the stallion, as they walked up the sand, "_You'll get your chance soon enough_."

_Are we going to war?_ Asked the stallion, turning eager eyes on the woman.

"_Yes_."

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Black waves rhythmically crashed against the rocks, casting milky white spray into the air, barely discernible against the grey sky. A large wave, twice the size of its counterparts, rolled up the beach and over the rocks onto the sand.

Were anyone around, they would see a horseman ride from the giant wave as it withdrew, water cascading from their armour and horse, splattering onto the sand. A light rain began to fall and the rider glanced up to the heavens before urging the horse onwards.

The horseman's hand rose and the salt water evaporated like steam from their bodies. Nudging the horse forward, the pair made their way up the forsaken beach, passing rundown and broken fishing boats half buried in the sand, evidence of a prosperous time long past.

The horse, a great black beast, tossed its head, the armour on its neck gleaming in the dull light as it gracefully, for something so large, made its way up off the sand and onto the hard dirt.

Snorting in annoyance the horse moved into a trot and its shod hooves thudded into the ground with a deep, reassuring sound. The rider moved with his mount, rising and falling, his cloak falling over the horse's haunches and his hood hiding his face from view. Dressed in full armour, though the likes of it had never been seen in these lands before, the horse drew attention first.

Black armour with silver runes and symbols cast into the metal adorned the neck, head, chest and haunches of the beast. And between the areas of armour, there was a layer of dark chainmail visible, offering a second layer of protection where the armour couldn't go.

Beneath those layers, and appearing over the horses flanks and upper legs was a long black and silver cape, almost like the horse was cloaked himself. Visible beneath the flowing black fabric was two pairs of black and silver armour; covering the horses lower legs like a greave would on a human.

The shield and fabric bore no insignia to reveal the identity of the rider; they were just as black as the rest of the horses armour, with silver lines. Aside from the flowing black cloak and hood, the rider was adorned very similar to the horse though they were wearing matching black leather boots and gloves. The falling rain had thickened, now showering in larger drops and the water seemed to hit the pair and roll off their armour and fabric, almost like it hit an invisible barrier.

A sudden movement at an Alley way drew the rider's hooded gaze and a little boy, no older than eight summers, dashed out in front of them. The horse halted abruptly and the boy avoided colliding with them before continuing onward, glancing behind him in fear, before ducking into an alley opposite.

There was a thundering of feet, heard easily over the light shower, and a group of men emerged from the same alley. They paused when they saw the rider and slowed to a halt, peering at the imposing figure curiously. A rugged group, they wore mismatched pieces of clothing and had clearly foraged for the rusty weapons and armour they had. The horse snorted and his ears flew back, he knew men like this, all the same, badly mannered with short tempers, arrogant and loud and with egos larger than themselves.

One was holding a pair of furious dogs, straining at their leashes, their malnourished bodies trembling with a strength they didn't look to have.

Abruptly he let the dogs go and they dashed off into the alley, barking furiously and there was a loud yelp of pain.

One of the men gestured to the rider, "Get outa ta way!" He ordered through crooked teeth as two men followed the dogs.

The rider turned a hooded head in his direction, staring at him for a moment before nudging the horse forward.

The warrior had to pull up for the man had walked in front of the horse, his buddies flanking him on both sides, flexing their muscles dangerously.

"I told ya ta move," growled the man again, standing a head higher than his friends.

The rider said nothing, but they eyed the thug for a moment before pulling the reins and turning the horse to the side, only to find the group moved with them and was once again directly in their path.

Tossing his head the horse pawed the ground angrily before quietening under the warrior's hand.

"Mighty fine horse ya got there, boy and armour," the thug continued, his dull brown eyes greedily roving over the pair, "Why don't ya just step down and hand us the reins."

The rain began to drizzle, the skies turning a shade lighter and the sun lighting up the silver on the armour and the hilt at the warriors side.

"Did ya hear what I said, Boy?" Growled the thug again, shifting menacingly forward.

The rider waited a moment before flicking back his coat and sliding easily from the saddle and landing without a sound on the dirt that was quickly turning into mud.

"Rufus!" A voice called through the rain, toned with glee, "We caught em!" All heads turned to see the speaker dragging a small boy across the alley, while a second man wrapped the leashes of both dogs around his giant hand.

Grinning several of the thugs moved away from the leader, Rufus, and made their way over to the boy. "Now, just hand me those reins and we'll be on our way," the browned eyed thug promised, fingering the hilt of his own blade.

A gloved hand rose and pointed at the thug before turning and facing the sky palm up. Rufus blinked as he was slowly lifted from the ground and panic laced his dull eyes.

"Ge-get him!" He yelled to his companions, but they hesitated as the hood turned to each of them in turn. The pool of muddy water in the dirt slowly began to rise, purifying and crystallising as it formed a long and sharp shaft.

"What are ya waiting for, get him!" roared the thug once more and the gloved hand halted and waved the index finger from side to side, like one would do to a naughty child. The thugs backed away and moved over to where their companions were holding the boy down, and were bringing out a whip.

Rufus turned back to the Rider, "Please, please don't kill me."

His pleas went unanswered as he was lowered swiftly onto the shaft, which pieced his chest easily and hit the ground. Blood began to drip from the point of the crystal, water mixing with it as it rushed down the sides and onto his clothes. The rider turned back to the horse as the shaft dispersed back into water, leaving the thug dead in the street, blood winding its way down towards the sea.

The horse stepped away from the rider as he made to mount and turned its head in the direction of the alley mouth, where the boy was sobbing into the dirt as the thugs teased him with the whip.

A black head turned back to the rider and nudged them forward; _I abhor the slaughter of foals._

The thugs glanced around and seeing nothing but the strange warrior, turned back to the boy and the one holding the whip raised it and brought it sharply down on the boys back. "This'll teach you fa steal'n!"

The horse snorted in fury and nudged the rider again, who sighed and walked over to the thugs, silently withdrawing their blade as they did so.

They came up behind the first one and grabbing their shoulder, pulled them back onto the sword before moving onto the next one.

By now the group was realising the stranger was attacking them and turned to face them, the one holding the boy releasing him and the boy took off into the buildings.

The fight lasted barely half a minute from when the warrior walked over to them, to when the warrior stood alone surrounded by bodies. Sheathing their sword they glanced over to the buildings, before turning and walking back to the horse.

_That wasn't so difficult, was it?_ The horse nudged the rider as they approached and turned to let them mount.

"_And yet you say nothing about the murder of my mate_?" The Rider spoke in a calm and soft voice.

The horse snorted, _In your herd you are not a mare, you are a stallion. There can only be one_.

"_And that makes it acceptable for Raku to be dead?"_ Growled the woman, for it was a woman's voice that came from the hood.

The horse moved forward without instruction, continuing on their path, _There is only one stallion, there can be only one in a herd, it is a fight. You are not trivial to the herd; you are dominant and fought for the position against the other stallion. While it pains you, this is nature, the strong must live and the weak die. Only humans allow such weakness, surely you understand?_

There was no judgement to the horse's tone, if a horse could be judgemental, only curiosity and an attempt to understand.

The woman sighed, "_You're right, but I-I just wish it didn't have to be like this_."

_You are a Hunter, as was your mate, but you are the Hunter_, said the horse, as though this solved everything.

Silence followed this comment and the stallion picked up the pace, "_Thank you, Ashnidanté_."

The stallion snorted, _We are bonded, I am supposed to make you feel better._

The woman laughed, "_I_ _don't remember seeing that when I read about it."_

_That's because it was written in horse_, said the stallion smugly and the woman laughed again.

The pair continued on in silence with the woman glancing about her, taking in the deserted and crumbling buildings. Glancing to the sky she saw a few pillars of smoke and internally wondered what the people could be burning, for she had read about this land, and knew there was nothing here.

There were sounds ahead of her and she slowed the stallion and led him into an alley and tied his reins to her saddle. Dismounting she reached for the roll behind her saddle and withdrew a long bow and a quiver full of arrows.

"Come when I call, please," she instructed the stallion, who snorted at her, "And no dawdling."

The stallion shook his head and put his nose to the sky, "I mean it." The woman gave him a final pat before moving off into the shadows of the buildings. The entire place leaked of desperation and suffering seemed to teem from the very earth and sky.

Striding silently closer, and skirting the puddles she eyed a tall and broken building ahead of her before nodding and slid the bow and quiver over her shoulder and began to climb.

The building bowed and groaned beneath her weight and for a moment she thought she would be too heavy, but it held and she carefully stuck to the stronger parts of the roof.

Out in the middle of what used to have been the towns square, there was a gathering of men, women and children, all huddled together like sheep, shying away from men who stood around the square. Clearly the band of men she recently encountered were guards of some sort, as there were at least four groups of them in the square, gathered to watch the events.

There was a pedestal in the centre and a group of about a dozen men were tied together in front of it, though "men" was perhaps an exaggeration. From this distance they looked to be young, barely men at all and they were all malnourished and some didn't even have the strength to stand upright. Beyond that there was a horse and cart with bodies tossed carelessly into it, for behind the men was a beam sticking out of the ground with a second plank going across it horizontally. Underneath it there was a large pit dug into the dirt and a hanging rope fluttered softly in the breeze.

There was a man talking, booming to the crowds and she inched forward, pulling her bow from her shoulder.

"For your crimes against the Wardens and against the House of Slyenthia, you are sentenced to death!"

One of the young men was unchained from his companions and dragged to the gallows, too exhausted to put up much of a fight, though when the noose went about his neck he turned his eyes on the crowd, "Don't let them treat you like this! Live! Don't-"

He was cut off as he was pushed forward over the hole and began to choke. Then he fell down into the pit, the rope still about his neck, an arrow thudding into the wood above him, as the guards searched for the source of the interruption. There were screams from the crowd as they were pushed away or saw arrows sticking out of the guards.

Eventually one of the thugs saw her and she ended him with an arrow through his throat, though not before his cry had drawn attention to her. Lowering her bow as the guards came charging towards her, she leapt from the building, landing easily like she had been taught, before standing and leaning her bow and quiver against the crumbling wall.

Drawing her sword she strode forward to meet the guards who were rushing to meet her, their own blades and weapons drawn. The official had turned pale and ran to the horse, untying it from the cart and kicked it brutally forward and away from the violence. The group of men in the huddle were watching her curiously though one of them began to hurriedly whisper to his companions.

"Untie us! We'll fight!" A dark-skinned one roared at her. She ignored them, concentrating more on the large number of big and angry men surrounding her.

Using her smaller size, she was able to easily step around them and kill them, for all their size and bravado; they were really just children waving a wooden stick in the yard compared to her.

And the fight only last minutes, as once the guard's saw how easily she cut through their companions, they turned and fled, vowing penalty. Sheathing her blade she glanced around at the bodies that littered her feet and to the silent crowd huddled together like lambs. Whistling sharply she spun and strode back to her bow and quiver before summoning her arrows back to her, inspecting them individually before placing them back into her quiver.

Ashnidanté stood behind her and waited patiently as she strode over to the group of youngsters who were tied together. Standing in front of them, she waited until all curious eyes were on her before flicking a blade into her hand and cutting through the rope with a sharp precise movement.

She ignored the youths as she turned away and strode over to the pit, jumping down into it easily enough. Roughly she grabbed the youth and pulled him over, harshly cutting the ropes around his hands and feet before straightening and leaping from the pit. The dark-skinned youth had retrieved a blade from one of the fallen thugs and had freed his companions and now they all stood together with the weapons and shields of the fallen wardens.

"Clayton, are you okay?" Asked one of the boys and he inched closer to the pit, making sure to avoid Alanna. Clayton groaned as he dragged himself up over the edge of the pit, the noose still around his neck. The boy reached for his friend and with surprisingly gentle hands tried to remove the rope. "I'm fine, Carson," rasped the young man as he sat up, rubbing his wrists. Carson nodded before carefully sawing at the rope around his friend's neck.

Finally freed, the boys presented a united front to the unknown warrior, flanking the young leader on both sides.

"Who are you? What do you want?" Demanded the dark-skinned one as Alanna mounted, her cloak snapping about her.

"Theon," hissed Clayton, "Be polite, he just saved us." Theon turned to Clayton before nodding sharply and turned back to Alanna. "Thank you, Stranger."

Alanna inclined her head beneath her hood, before Ashnidanté moved off across the courtyard and they vanished into the darkening day.

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Lightning flashed overhead as the two men made their way through the rain, one cursing softly as their breath turned smoke-like in front of them. "Shush," the other gestured through the rain. He received a grunt in response and shook the rain from his coat as they ducked beneath a crumbling arch and knocked a pattern on the rotting door. The door creaked open and the two men were rushed inside and the door was quickly closed behind them.

Silently they hurried through the house, the musty walls and ceiling offering little reassurance of warmth and safety from the rain. A candle light guided them onward and they made their way to a larger room at the end of the dwelling, it was an open space and clearly some work had been done to keep it habitable and there were shelves of dried plants and some strange looking rocks were in one corner. Mismatched chairs were scattered around a large table, which had one of its legs held up by a series of rocks and sticks. Carpets and fur, long tainted brown and grey with age and use were practically threadbare on the concrete.

A large and battered pot was in the corner, the smoke syphoning out through a hole in the roof. A slender woman wearing what looked to be an old bed sheet was sitting next to the pot and was applying some sort of salve to the raw skin around the neck of a young man. His black hair was matted and tangled and looked as though it had been cut by hedge scissors, maybe even the large rusty ones lying on the shelf behind him. His bright gold eyes were filled with pain as the salve set into his skin and he flinched away.

A pale hand slapped him and roughly held his chin in place, "Enough of that!"

Muffled sniggers came from the men in the room, and gold eyes glared at them and they fell silent, though some still shook with laughter.

"Did you find him?"

"Nah, Clayton. Vanished," grunted one of the men who had joined them. The other spoke up, "We asked around and heard tales of a horseman riding from the sea, but that is nonsense."

The gold-eyed youth nodded, "Well, I would like to thank him, but if he's gone I guess we can do nothing."

"It would appear our captors weren't the only ones to meet this man," continued the man, "we came across a series of bodies down the Old Road. Took what was left and moved it to storage."

Clayton nodded pleased, "Very well."

There was a moment's pause while the fire cracked beneath the pot before he spoke again, "What do we know of the Warden's movements? What of Bucaic?"

Another man spoke up, "How many men were down Old Road?"

His answer was swift, "Seven."

"That makes it three and twenty that this guy has killed, so, that leaves about five dozen remaining."

Clayton nodded at the numbers, "they outnumber us four-to-one on a good day, but right now, I don't think we can manage even that." The men made sounds of agreement; most had been beaten at the hands of the Wardens after their capture and they were weak and handicapped, only a few were fit to weld a weapon.

Clayton sighed, "Okay, so we can't do anything yet. Lay low for a few weeks, I'll call you when we are ready to move. But if you hear anything, let me know. Spread the word, gents."

In two's and threes the men began to leave, slipping out the rotten door and into the night, until only Clayton was left. Sighing he got to his feet, looking old for his age and smiled tiredly to the Healer, "Thanks Laelia, I owe you."

"Yes, you do," nodded the woman, her raven hair shimmering in the faint light.

Clayton nodded awkwardly, knowing that he truly had nothing he could afford to give her, before making his way from the building, pulling his hood up.

Above him, a figure stood on the roof and watched him as he disappeared through the rain.

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The Wardens generally travelled in groups; usually numbering three or four up to seven or eight, however on occasion one would stumble home alone from the tavern, the only fairly decent building in the entire city. On this night, it would prove to be an error of judgement that would leave the Wardens in an uproar in the morning, when more of their numbers were found dead.

A young woman was walking between the alleyways, her clothing cut in an unfamiliar style though revealed her assets to any wandering eye. Unsteadily one of the Wardens broke off from his fellows and followed her through the alley, wanting to keep her to himself for now. The woman heard him coming and turned her head to see him before moving quicker through the pathways.

He caught her easily and tossed her against the wall, his hands reaching for his belt. "'Ello there lassie," he slurred and his eyes greedily roved over her skin as she leant against the wall. In the light from the moon her skin was golden and the bright crimson silk she wore contrasted delicately against her skin. Her muscles shifted with her steady breaths and he followed her exhale up over her chest before reaching her face. There he blanched and a blade shimmered in the moonlight, he didn't have a chance to scream, and the last thing he saw before his death was glinting purple eyes.

Over that night a dozen lone men met their deaths at the hands of a beautiful woman, who struck without mercy and vanished without a trace. The following morning the Wardens gathered the towns people and took their children, they were told they would get their children back if the assailant came forward, and that for every day he did not, they would kill one of them.

Mothers cried and begged, but to no avail, the children we thrown into the cages and kept there, with four Wardens to guard them night and day. As the crowd dispersed, a lone woman watched from a distance, her face covered. A small boy, hidden in the shadows, watched her intently and followed her as she made her way silently through the town, her dirty cloak brushing the mud and hiding her clothing. Reaching the edge of town she continued onward and out into the sparse forest that remained until she came upon a clearing, where a small shack lent to one side.

The boy blinked as he limped around the outskirts of the forest, the grass here was lush and green, a colour and richness he had only dreamed of and a large black horse was grazing near a well and as the woman entered the clearing its small head rose and whickered a greeting before going back to the grass.

There was a small spit revolving above a smouldering fire and as the wind changed it blew the scent of roasted meat across the clearing. The boy stifled a groan of desire as the woman moved to the fireplace and a seat emerged from the earth, and she sat elegantly on it. The fire cracked and spat as fat from the meat dripped onto it and the woman removed the rod and slid the animal off and placed it onto a silver plate that appeared out of nowhere and hovered in the air.

A second animal rose from a small cotton bag and slid onto the rod before it was placed over the fire and began to spin, slowly as blood dripped down its pale body and onto the fire. Whimpering as the woman began to eat he lowered himself onto the grass, the dog bite oozing and leaking through his clothes.

How long he waited, he didn't know, but measured time by how many times his stomach clenched in pain and the throbbing in his wounded leg.

Eventually the woman finished her meal and after summoning water from the well for the horse, she lay down to rest. Sensing his chance the boy waited for as long as he could before rising, his body protesting at the action after being still for so long, and limped forward out of the trees.

The horse noticed him immediately and watched him curiously before tossing its mane and returning to grazing; breathing a sigh of relief he relaxed and shuffled forward, eyes on the roasting animal, whose aroma seemed to summon him.

Moonlight guided him towards the fire and the thought that he was about to steal from a Mage didn't occur to him, only his gnawing hunger mattered. He slipped around the still form of the woman and reached the heat of the fire, sighing at the warmth. His belly growled and he froze, hoping the noise didn't disturb the woman, when she remained asleep he inched forward and hesitantly grabbed at the rod. He bit back a yelp as his hands burnt but his hunger overrode his pain and he lifted the rod from the stands, letting it fall onto the ground.

Clutching his hands to his body he rocked back and forward on his knees, biting back cries of pain as tears streaked down his cheeks.

Sniffing he scrambled for the meat, and wrapped his hands in the pale cloth that the meat had come from. With his hands protected he was easily able to slide the meat from the rod and with his bounty he turned around and froze.

The woman was sitting cross-legged and facing him, her purple eyes gleaming in the firelight. He gave a cry and jerked backwards. Stumbling into the fire, only to launch himself out as the flames lapped at his skin.

Whimpering in pain he rolled away and brushed helplessly at his clothes as ash burnt through them. The horse came up behind him and lowered its head, sniffing him before snorting and stepping away, mane flying.

"Did you really just try to steal from me?" Said the woman eyeing him curiously, her voice cold and clear, as though the idea of someone stealing something from her were ludicrous.

The boy said nothing, holding the meat and still crouching beneath the shadow of the horse, feeling his warmth even at the distance between them.

"I asked you a question, boy," her voice changed and the order was blatant, her tone an icy hiss.

Gulping the boy looked down, fingering the meat, inhaling the scent deeply as though he could inhale the food.

Suddenly he acted, throwing his bounty back at the woman and darting to the side, ignoring the way his leg flared in pain. She caught the meat easily and remained seated as he stumbled away because the horse was soon in his path, solid and strong. Picking himself up from the ground he turned and tried another path, only to find the horse in his way again. Its black neck snaked forward and his teeth latched around the boy's clothes before beginning to walk forward, dragging the boy with him.

"Hey," he scrambled and twisted in mid-air, like a fish on a hook, "lemme down!"

The horse obliged when he was standing in front of the woman, who was watching the horse with a blank expression, though as he was set down a frown crossed her features.

The horse snorted and nudged the boy further forward and he collapsed exhausted in front of her, a pile of bones and skin.

The meat was still smoking in her hands, the steam swirling in the air and he eyed it ravenously. Abruptly she tossed it to him, "Don't take what is mine," she instructed as she got to her feet and made her way into the shack. The horse snorted before walking off to graze, leaving the boy alone in the clearing with a freshly cooked and warm slab of meat, with only the stars for company.

xxxxxXXXXXxxxxx

**Author's Note:** So, this is a new part to the story, (one of) the new plot line(s) it may be another chapter or two, but then, eventually, we return to Tortall! So, yeah, bear with :D Also, thanks to Fang for some characters, I'm going to have fun with them :D Wow, 99 follows! :D

** Guest:** Do you mind telling me why you put off reading it? Thank you! It's always great getting new readers :D I am glad you enjoy it. You are correct in believing it has been about three years for Tortall, but for the Tournament, she only goes there for each one, and then returns to Tahaken, so in reality she hasn't aged with the Tournament. Her biological age is twenty, almost twenty-one, but the years she has lived is much, much higher, nearing 5 thousand.

** Schubeyy:** I'm sorry I made you cry, but it had to happen. Aw, thank you, that is so sweet, I have warm fuzzies now :D On another note, did you see J. is going to make Fantastic Beast and Where to find them into a movie? I am so excited!

** CoTB:** Well, maybe we will see him again?

** RoyalLady:** That was fun ;)


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